Pourin (feat. BlueBucksClan)

Ayy
Ayy
(Mike Free on the beat, ayy)

I kept pourin' up that Hi-Tech pint
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane
I kept pourin' up that Hi-Tech right
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane

Really need my codeine and my promethazine
Really got some enemies, so I keep magazines
In case a nigga try to book me for my anything
Gave her some rounds, but she'll never get a wedding ring
I be after money green
We just left the money team
I just wanna ride in a Lamborghin'
Sippin' codeine martinis

She heard they call me Greedy
She like, "03, come meet me
Just so you can come eat me"
Thought about it, pulled up thinkin', "Fuck it, I'ma beat it"
She wanna fuck me on the XO every other weekend
Then record it, shit, I'm conceited
She fold her legs up like she Fabo every time I'm geekin'
"Living Legend" on the face, wan' put it where her cheeks is

I stay pourin' up that Hi-Tech pint
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane
I stay pourin' up that Hi-Tech right
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane

Stay flossin' every day, I can't run out of toothpicks (Toothpicks)
Bitch niggas talkin', I ain't tryna hear your two cents (Tear your two cents)
TSA harassin' like I brung a bomb in this bitch (Goddamn)
My bitches hate each other, they just gotta coexist (Gotta coexist)
Know she heard about the party, she ain't make it on that list (Make it on that list)
No, I'm not from G Unit, but I hit for fifty cent (Fifty thousand)
See it in these niggas' eyes, they be mad about my wrist (Mad about my wrist)
Made 'em feel some type of way 'cause they can tell my homies rich

I don't gotta say shit, niggas know it's bands in this bitch (Bands in this bitch)
Hit a lot of niggas' hoes, I been losin' fans in this bitch (Losin' fans)
He feel some type of way, he finna put his hands on a bitch (Put his hands on a bitch)
I stay fresh, I stay flyer than an eagle do (I stay fly)
Stay flossin', flex like John Cena do (John Cena)
I feel like I'm King Kong walkin' in Veneta boots (In Veneta)
With a group of bitches I just met, I don't need no dudes (Dudes)
I just got a pint of Hi-Tech, I don't need no juice

I stay pourin' up that Hi-Tech pint
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane
I stay pourin' up that Hi-Tech right
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane

Syrup in my Faygo when I need it
Playin' dirty in the field, malfeasance
Get a nigga tackled by the opps
Where officials call the shots, low-key only way to be rich
Tried to ride the wave, now I got 'em seasick
Did it by myself on some I'm a G shit
If you got advice, pussy, I don't need it
Wasn't ever poppin', you are not a needed

You a shoulda-coulda-woulda type wannabe bitch
You don't wanna hit the road on that Justin Bieb' shit
Ain't no checkin' me, you can go and check on me
Only time I took her out when love turned into jealousy
How could you feel like a gangster?
When you done changed up over fame for the paper?

I stay pourin' up that Hi-Tech pint
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane
I stay pourin' up that Hi-Tech right
Smokin' cake, tryna chase a bank
So I'm servin' them thangs
Swervin' up the lane



Credits
Writer(s): Mike Jones, Michael Banks, Timothy Allen, Jason Jamal Jackson, Glenn P. Jones
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link