Wave Runner Freestyle
I'm at the crib and I'm rollin' up piff
No pre-rolls, only roll my own shit
I'm in the Midwest, still with my clique
Came out the creek, yeah, we came out the sticks
I'm flowin' sick, gon' get you some Vicks
Retro Ones and they lookin' real nice
I'm Articuno with all of this ice
Chryse might just drop like 3k in the Sprite
I'm done with these labels, they wastin' my time
I'm eatin' salmon, a lil' brown rice
Rockin' Chanel, man, it's just some' light
I cannot fuck with these rappers, they trife
I just might surf on this beat all night, ay, ay, yeah
Surf on this beat like a wave, yeah
I'm just gon' count up a milli', I'm feeling like Wayne
I just might take your favorite rapper outta the game, yuh
Rooftop chillin', we sippin' a lil' chardonnay, woah, uh
I came out the water, I'm splashin'
I might just stick with the plug
'Cause I know dispensaries taxin'
I'm eatin' Belgian waffles with a lil' fresh fruit
I don't sip lean, I sip pressed juice
I'm in the Rolls with the stars in the roof
Puke on the beat, yeah, I'm sick with the flu, yeah
I came with some bitches, you came with some dudes, yeah
I like smoking weed, I like shopping for shoes, uh
I met her one time and she sending me nudes, uh, yeah
Ice on me look like the St. Louis Blues
Drown all my sweatpants, drown all my kicks
She call me baby 'cause I'm throwin' fits
Dom Pérignon, yeah, it cost me a grip
Don't got a feature on one of my hits
Go get some money, don't cry 'bout a bitch
Y'all need some vitamins, y'all don't eat fish
Red, white paint, that's a peppermint Benz
What's in your pocket? It's none' but some lint
I don't like none of the beats that you send
Flew out of Tokyo, landed in France
Get it like me, it's just something you can't
I'm livin' something like Viva La Bam
24-inch rims on the TransAm
I wake up, brush my teeth, and put on my jewelry, uh
In the 1994 chromed-out E30, yeah
O-M-G, oh my God
These bitches like, "Vous le vous couchez avec moi", woah
I wake up, brush my teeth, and put on my jewelry, uh
In the 1994 chromed-out E30, yeah
O-M-G, oh my God
These bitches like, "Vous le vous couchez avec moi," woah, yeah
No pre-rolls, only roll my own shit
I'm in the Midwest, still with my clique
Came out the creek, yeah, we came out the sticks
I'm flowin' sick, gon' get you some Vicks
Retro Ones and they lookin' real nice
I'm Articuno with all of this ice
Chryse might just drop like 3k in the Sprite
I'm done with these labels, they wastin' my time
I'm eatin' salmon, a lil' brown rice
Rockin' Chanel, man, it's just some' light
I cannot fuck with these rappers, they trife
I just might surf on this beat all night, ay, ay, yeah
Surf on this beat like a wave, yeah
I'm just gon' count up a milli', I'm feeling like Wayne
I just might take your favorite rapper outta the game, yuh
Rooftop chillin', we sippin' a lil' chardonnay, woah, uh
I came out the water, I'm splashin'
I might just stick with the plug
'Cause I know dispensaries taxin'
I'm eatin' Belgian waffles with a lil' fresh fruit
I don't sip lean, I sip pressed juice
I'm in the Rolls with the stars in the roof
Puke on the beat, yeah, I'm sick with the flu, yeah
I came with some bitches, you came with some dudes, yeah
I like smoking weed, I like shopping for shoes, uh
I met her one time and she sending me nudes, uh, yeah
Ice on me look like the St. Louis Blues
Drown all my sweatpants, drown all my kicks
She call me baby 'cause I'm throwin' fits
Dom Pérignon, yeah, it cost me a grip
Don't got a feature on one of my hits
Go get some money, don't cry 'bout a bitch
Y'all need some vitamins, y'all don't eat fish
Red, white paint, that's a peppermint Benz
What's in your pocket? It's none' but some lint
I don't like none of the beats that you send
Flew out of Tokyo, landed in France
Get it like me, it's just something you can't
I'm livin' something like Viva La Bam
24-inch rims on the TransAm
I wake up, brush my teeth, and put on my jewelry, uh
In the 1994 chromed-out E30, yeah
O-M-G, oh my God
These bitches like, "Vous le vous couchez avec moi", woah
I wake up, brush my teeth, and put on my jewelry, uh
In the 1994 chromed-out E30, yeah
O-M-G, oh my God
These bitches like, "Vous le vous couchez avec moi," woah, yeah
Credits
Writer(s): Alexander Francis Kelly
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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