Maybach Music

Oh you think you know
The real me
Spend a check
Then switch locations
In some all black shit
In Versace just like we made it
Everything fit right
If it don't
Then we tailor make it
Pulled us over said
The car smell loud
Well that's apparent
Had sticks in the whip
But it's legal for us to carry
Wrote red rum on a
Mirror for Bloody Mary
We was all young
No such thing
As best we could
Only diamonds get respect
In this part of the neighborhood
But that shit make you a target
For niggas that wish they could
You can't make every dolla
And you can't fuck every bitch
But still niggas be broke
And find a way to look rich
You ever had to spend it all
And get that shit how you live
She still fuckin' on them niggas
That ain't never had shit
We poppin' bottles just
To celebrate life
That's every night
I'm grinding ten hour days
It's worth it based off the pay
I doubled up on the work
Ain't no back orders or delays
You fuck around with the money
Hm well let's not say that
You a dead man walking
We spraying outside the Maybach
Questions that don't get answered
I'm knowing it ain't no take backs
Hitting 'em where it hurt
While I'm laughing out
Can you take that
Fucking her from the back
On her OnlyFans in a face mask
Friends'll turn to your foes
But you still ain't getting
Your cake back
Saint Laurent
Where she dream at
YSL where she stay at

El Dorado
We went from Marriott stays
To poppin' bottles at the Mar-A-Lago
I ain't a golfer
I'm a straight shooter
Something like the president
A real American
I gotta use my right to bear arms
It's in the Constitution

FNs big dracos
These sticks ain't dirty
I could put you on
Be a boss but you too worried
Nigga man or band up
The clock keep ticking
I let that bitch
Cock then bang
Know my glock ain't missing
You went and stole
From your people
Fucked up your whole name
This shit ain't free
Little nigga
Come pay for this game
Oh what's that poker
We on Baccarat
Done switch up the game
Run that money that you owe me
Or it's off with your head
Turned to a banker or a bank
Either way all 'bout bread
We get 'em in then ship 'em out
It's fuck what you said
I knew niggas that did wrong
And they still ain't dead
I see niggas is really snakes
They'll talk to the feds



Credits
Writer(s): Maurese Daniels
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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