Chose

(Drama)
God chose this for us (oh-oh-oh)
(Ooh)
Dramatic, nigga
(D-Roc)
(Gangsta Grillz)
Uh, yeah, yeah

Hermès everythin' grown
One million in duffle, one million cologne
Kick her up out of my home, she too medicated
I ain't feelin' that, no
Patek on bottom of the Cartier bracelets
Got to put that shit on, go, ooh (ooh)

Come out the top and I shoot, uh (ooh)
Check how I'm countin' this loot (ooh)
Turnin' up so bad, they know I'm chose

Yeah, I want the money, the power, you keep the respect
Just don't get hit wit' the TEC
I got the bitch ridin' 'round in the front wit' the check
Know she be givin' me neck
Jewelry wrapped, keepin' that stick, ridin' 'round
Catch a opp and hop out playin' hockey, whoa
Got a purple nose, look like I made the honor roll

Kickin' this shit, she don't like I got my own
You expose that you a -, leave me 'lone (ooh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)
Pick it up, go right back out in a minute
YoungBoy, slimiest menace
Check how I do it, the fool get pitted (ooh)

Come out the top and I shoot, uh (ooh)
Check how I'm countin' this loot (ooh)
Turnin' up so bad they know I'm chose (Top, Top)

Top, they know that I'm chosen
I'm on her, just give me a Trojan
From the back to the side, got her posin'
Everyday watches, Pateks' and Rollies, don't correct me, Patek's

Bitch, take a shot at my neck
I ain't even tryna flip, that's a whole 'nother check
That's a whole new 'Vette, I'm drivin' these Astons, don't mind my lineup
Hundred grand tucked in my sweats, sprinter van filled wit' her friends (uh)

Walk out the party, then jump on the jet
I'm fuckin' her more, the more the best
Skeet on her breast, bitch, I'm a mess
She a Cadet, I am a vet', I ain't doin' no stress
Ho I'm turned up, I'm turned up, you see?

Leave me
Please, don't break our privacy
Fiend, you fiend, behind lesser things
Chosen, like they close to me
Like I am not worth anything (Gangsta Grillz)
Uh, yeah, yeah

Hermès everythin' grown
One million in duffle, one million cologne
Kick her up out of my home, she too medicated
I ain't feelin' that, no
Patek on bottom of the Cartier bracelets
Got to put that shit on, go, ooh (ooh)

Come out the top and I shoot, uh (ooh)
Check how I'm countin' this loot (ooh)
Turnin' up so bad, they know I'm chose (yeah)



Credits
Writer(s): Joshua Emanuel Coleman, Kentrell Deshawn Gaulden, Daniel Lebrun, William Eric Boyette, Aleksander Helmuth Kjaerbaek
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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