Director's Cut

Yo, throw me a word
Just give me a word, any word
(Bitches)
Bitches? Aigh, bet

Uh
Aye, uh
Been chilling with bitches in lingerie
Feeling so good I might pour me a cup
Yeah pass me a cup of that Chardonnay
(Whoa, aye) Getting that money
Now these niggas feeling some type of way
They throwing stones and afterwards they try to hide their face
(Hold up) I need like six different cars
They look at my life they know I'm going far
I'll make it look easy but this shit is hard
Calling the shots but I'm playing my part
This is the Director's Cut, they talking but don't come direct enough
The way they move I can't respect it much
I move on my time don't expect to rush (Whoa!)
I be coming crazy I'ma violater
Ima kill the pussy, I annihilate her
I don't got a skillet but I'm frying haters
I be stacking, chilling, multiplying paper
Yes she saved it for me I'ma try it later
She be cutting up when I be tryna fade her
Did it on her own I didn't try to make her
Drip drowning shawty, I ain't tryna save her

Yeah, Blaze
I guess ima do some rapper shit right here, right?
Fuck it, yeah!

Take a good look at my sneakers, balling so hard no I'm not in the bleachers
Changing my number 'cause these niggas trying so hard just to reach us
Look at these bitches, they coming around and they said they gon' please us
(Yeah, hold up, wait) School of hard knocks didn't come with no teachers
Sipping on alcohol, niggas been sleeping on me really heavy
And all of a sudden I passed them all
Balling on niggas I'm going so crazy and now they be telling me pass the ball
Sick of these niggas so much to the point
That I'm telling these people to pass the Halls
Whoa, damn... hey!



Credits
Writer(s): Kwason Morris
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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