hollon

(Yeah, yo, hey)
Pockets filled up with these racks (racks, yo, hey)
Fuck the thottie, take her back (back, back, back, back, yo)
You stuff the Benjamins inside the bag (in the bag)
911 inside the Porsche (ooh)
Bitch stuck up, yeah, the bitch a brat (it's a brat)
It's a city to city on tours, we saw fate and had a rack attack (Luh M)

Pockets swollen, yeah
X, rolly-polly, flawless diamonds, big face Rollie
Louis Vuitton messenger bag with a Glock in it
I don't be trustin' nobody, I ain't stoppin' shit (boom)
Pull up, I pull up, I pull up, I'm poppin' shit

Yeah, I scraped the side of the Benz
I'm fuckin' that thot and her friends
Yeah, I got that bitch cancelling plans
Yeah, fashion week, we out in France

Pockets filled, chee (ch-chee)
Baguette on my neck, know it's wet
I got that bitch, wanna just give her sex (yeah)
This 40 the queen bee just like it's a gnat (queen bee)
I got you the suite, you forget the rest (suite)
We a lil' wavy the way, you know I caress
And the nine hundred is not stayin' in the holster

When you away, I know you cannot hold on
Me and Yeat catch up with your ho' (really)
DHL deal come with an odor (odor)
Cheese, it come in from Paris in the Rover
She say the way I work the stick is immoral
In the woods just like Paul Bunyan
I clap that bitch once, and I swear that I'm done with it (clap it)

In the G5, from the feds, I'ma run with it (skrrt)
I got the bands on me just like I'm big (big)
Your man lost his cap and that bitch lost her wig
I got the stain, know that bank on my wrist
These niggas wanna know what we do with the SIG
I got Margiela, OG in the air (hey, ah)

(Yeah, yo, hey)
Pockets filled up with these racks (racks, yo, hey)
Fuck the thottie, take her back (back, back, back, back, yo)
You stuff the Benjamins inside the bag (in the bag)
911 inside the Porsche
Bitch stuck up, yeah, the bitch a brat (it's a brat)
It's a city to city on tours, we saw fate and had a rack attack (Luh M)

Pockets swollen, yeah
X, rolly-polly, flawless diamonds, big face Rollie
Louis Vuitton messenger bag with a Glock in it
I don't be trustin' nobody, I ain't stoppin' shit (boom)
Pull up, I pull up, I pull up, I'm poppin' shit

Yeah, I scraped the side of the Benz
I'm fuckin' that thot and her friends, yeah
I got that bitch cancelling plans, yeah
Fashion week, we out in France



Credits
Writer(s): Noah Smith, Malachi Green, Ethan Andrade
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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