Check

We came for the bottom
They didn't think no niggas could walk through the hollows
We popping these bottles
What you know about pouring champagne on a model
We run them racks
Why would you Trip when you moving these packs
You gone off that act
It be having y'all tripping I'm gone keep it stack
But it keep you at war
That Money is the reason why shells on the floor
It pop like the fourth
Them dogs won't smell that work in the door
The hustle was swift
My broads will move a pack in lift
It's not the flip
You want real bread then learn how to whip

You get check than you run it up
Than let a chick count it up
enemies start clicking up
And homies start switching up
Yeah The streets don't Love you
Nah These hoes don't trust you
Don't let a nigga front you
Young boy you better hustle

Invested in stocks
It's time for people to buy back the block
We war with the cops
Don't believe that story they tell you on fox
We getting that cream
I want all my niggas to live like a king
What do you mean
This is that base you can serve to a fiend
I giving them Jews
My thoughts be given them chill like the flu
You see how we move
My wild life's way too real for a zoo
I swear it iconic
All these of rings got me feeling like sonic
This world is so toxic
We only live once so roll up the chronic

You get check than you run it up
Than let a chick count it up
Enemies start clicking up
And homies start switching up
Yeah The streets don't Love you
Nah These hoes don't trust you
Don't let a nigga front you
Young boy you better hustle

We want the money and respect
Y'all hustle just to flex
I need more zeros on the check
I need mores stones on my neck
Me need more brothers in the office
And less in kids in the coffin
Keep real ones in your posses
Only cuff her if she bossy
All that dirt I wipe it off
Yeah I had to cut them suckers off
I'm surfing to them big figure
You can't win with them broke Niggas
Shorty sweet like Nestea
I got my eye on her bestie
Treat her ocean like a jet ski
Yeah she thick like Chun Li
You get check than you run it up
Than let a chick count it up
Enemies start clicking up
And homies start switching up
Yeah The streets don't Love you
Nah These hoes don't trust you
Don't let a nigga front you
Young boy you better hustle



Credits
Writer(s): Sharm Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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