3AM in New Orleans

Uh
I'm 'bout to drum up for my money, like I'm DJ Cannon
I got a stripper bitch, she Spanish, yeah, she in Atlanta
Yeah, I just scored the Wock', I'm 'bout to grab a Fanta
At my show, it's like a robbery, they got they hands up

My diamonds like a hockey puck, you need no 3D glasses
I'm moving like I'm Ali, you can nickname me Cassius
I swear to God, I glow at dark, I don't need no flashes
I treat the Audi like a potato, I'ma mash it

I need my gravy in the whip, it's cranberry sauce
Daunte Culpepper, catch the pack, Randy Moss
Paid in full, Richard Porter, pull up in the sauce
Money like the Empire building, stacking tall

Uh
Diamonds on flip and loud
Your bitch tryna be picked from the crowd
Pipe down, just a fish in the sea, I seen a hundred thou'
Some are knocked down, some are passed around

OG, hot feet planted on the ground
Cold bottles in the studio, pistols are half a pound
Hit machine, cop a Rollie off my last 16
Waive the fee for my dog, that's what's taught to me

Cautiously walk the street, clutchin' car keys
Rolls-Royce parked on the corner where you can't be
This is New Orleans, G's recognize G's
Applaud me, on the floor seats where I was last seen



Credits
Writer(s): Adam Kirkman, Darius Tyree Mcqueen, Shante Scott Franklin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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