Wifey (Chosen One)

Yeah, ugh, for real

Real boss shit mane, real
Real boss shit mane, real

(So, who's Chris Fuego?)

Sittin' on a stack, eight-hundred dollar shoes on
Bitch this is just what I'm on
I ain't cappin', I'm just telling you how it is dawg
I ain't really tryna get in with her friends dawg
I just want her
She the only one
She my wifey, she the chosen one yeah
I ain't kidding witcha, she my wifey, but it's not official, yeah, yeah
Real boss shit I just put these folks on
Real boss shit, my momma don't know what I'm on
Momma, I'm sorry I can't come home
Back home in a fucking Camry

What you think I fucking rap for?
Not for no Toyota, for a Land Rover
My bitch sitting next to me, ass so fat, told her scoot over
It feel like a movie, but it's never over
I feel like I'm hardly ever, ever sober
Matter fact, bitch I'm never sober
Unngggaaaaahhhaaaaaaa

What you doing with that shit?
Take a step back, bitch
What you doing with that shit?
Drop it down, down, bitch

Need a mill in the bank for a rainy day
Right now where I stay it rain every day
Bought a crib for my bitch just so she could stay...
And she didn't stay

Goddamn, right now I'm fucked up
It hurts so much, I'ma roll another blunt
Now she flexing on these hoes, stepping on these bitches
Now she flexing on these hoes, stepping on these bitches
My bitch made it out the gutter, yeah she from the trenches
My bitch got them heels on, know she got them inches
Help me get the bag, help me get them digits
My bitch shoot with precision
My bitch shoot with precision



Credits
Writer(s): Alexis Aguirre
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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