On Go!
(Yay)
(This a freestyle just letting you know)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Yeah, yeah, yay, yay, yay)
Yeah, I spend a band on my Owens
Ball on that boy, dunk on him like Derozan
Pop me ten xans, it feel like im floating
She like the way that I'm rapping and flowing, no poet
No writing
All my bros on go, Teen Titans
Call him a candle, the choppa gon' light him
That boy a opp, yeah we do not like him
At all
I dont even like that girl, so I'm not sorry that I missed her call
Nickname the Clique Lamelo, the way that we Ball
We ball, your diamonds fake, you bought them from the mall
He ask too many questions, call him Curious George, and I ain't talking no Paul
If he gon' talk on the net, we gon' catch him in person and drag him, like RuPaul
Ok, my boys and them, we gonna pop him like M&M
I'm bout to elevate, but he ain't going nowhere, so we don't even level him
Don't feel like fighting today, so I make sure the .556 get rid of him
I don't care what he say, just make sure you know that I mean what I send to him
If he talk down on the Clique, we gon capture him and get ever who kin to him
I got a baddie, I think her name Lana
Bought her a Birkin to match with my Prada
She give me knowledge, I feel like a scholar
Know not to test me, I stay wit' my Mac, Like McDonalds
I spent a band on my Number (N)ine
Ain't talking green, had to block him, he wasting time
Uber ain't come in time, so I made her walk home, cause she cannot spend the night
Cause I need time to myself
Hit him with the tech, man I feel like a ref
Eat good shrimp and curry, ain't talking no Steph
This potion I'm sippin' affecting my health
I'm trying to blow up, get unlimited wealth
This gas so loud, It's making me deaf
Imma pull out her tracks
Imma catch them from the back
Imma pull out my gat
Make him run like track
200 on the dash
Feel like Imma crash
Imma get that bag and make sure everyone's mad
Say you get money, you cappin', thats sad
That boy my son, so I feel like a dad
She ain't want me in the past
Now she want me cause my pockets get fat
Sip purple soda, it help me relax
He talking money, then that is a bet
Put his dawg down, send him to the vet
All my boys eating we properly fed
Can't mess with him, he a cop, he a fed
Yeah
(This a freestyle just letting you know)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Yeah, yeah, yay, yay, yay)
Yeah, I spend a band on my Owens
Ball on that boy, dunk on him like Derozan
Pop me ten xans, it feel like im floating
She like the way that I'm rapping and flowing, no poet
No writing
All my bros on go, Teen Titans
Call him a candle, the choppa gon' light him
That boy a opp, yeah we do not like him
At all
I dont even like that girl, so I'm not sorry that I missed her call
Nickname the Clique Lamelo, the way that we Ball
We ball, your diamonds fake, you bought them from the mall
He ask too many questions, call him Curious George, and I ain't talking no Paul
If he gon' talk on the net, we gon' catch him in person and drag him, like RuPaul
Ok, my boys and them, we gonna pop him like M&M
I'm bout to elevate, but he ain't going nowhere, so we don't even level him
Don't feel like fighting today, so I make sure the .556 get rid of him
I don't care what he say, just make sure you know that I mean what I send to him
If he talk down on the Clique, we gon capture him and get ever who kin to him
I got a baddie, I think her name Lana
Bought her a Birkin to match with my Prada
She give me knowledge, I feel like a scholar
Know not to test me, I stay wit' my Mac, Like McDonalds
I spent a band on my Number (N)ine
Ain't talking green, had to block him, he wasting time
Uber ain't come in time, so I made her walk home, cause she cannot spend the night
Cause I need time to myself
Hit him with the tech, man I feel like a ref
Eat good shrimp and curry, ain't talking no Steph
This potion I'm sippin' affecting my health
I'm trying to blow up, get unlimited wealth
This gas so loud, It's making me deaf
Imma pull out her tracks
Imma catch them from the back
Imma pull out my gat
Make him run like track
200 on the dash
Feel like Imma crash
Imma get that bag and make sure everyone's mad
Say you get money, you cappin', thats sad
That boy my son, so I feel like a dad
She ain't want me in the past
Now she want me cause my pockets get fat
Sip purple soda, it help me relax
He talking money, then that is a bet
Put his dawg down, send him to the vet
All my boys eating we properly fed
Can't mess with him, he a cop, he a fed
Yeah
Credits
Writer(s): Justin Mcnair
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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