Holy Ghost

Church bells ringing
Naw that's the blicky
Slide off with ya nigga
I need a quicky
Put this pussy on his face
call it facial
Pullin on this hair like a bitch biracial
I don't tussle with you hoes send a quick text
Have them niggas at ya door
no footsteps
Beating on my chest like I'm Cesar
Bitch thought she saw the reaper
Like hey it's nice to meet ya

Diamonds get tah clapping like Mercedes on da pole
Bitch I'm always eating
I need these pockets swole
My nigga gotta vibrate higher than these other dudes
Serve these cap ass niggas a plate dog food
If it ain't about da bread bitch you a fool
Stomping on you niggas
Get Nicks crew
Can't waist my time I'm in off season
Put on all white for Virgil it's a reason
I love to swipe it up in Neimans
Let me get the Lil Baby special
The three for one
Flying first class is the goal
But on the private jet that's a different mode
Fucking 40,000 ft in da air
we in halo mode
Gas me up, cereal, I blow big O's
Loubi's on my feet
Ma'am what are those
We rocking next season looks straight off the runway
Don't need no stylist
Drip is in sicko mode

One, two, three that's how the opps click
Four, five load up the chopsticks
Six, seven a bih better pray they go to heaven
Eight, nine, ten where's the reverend

One, two, three that's how the opps click
Four, five load up the chopsticks
Six, seven a bih better pray they go to heaven
Eight, nine, ten where's the reverend

Tag me back in we in fourth quarter
I been dropping these loads off
ya transporter
Gotta pop ya ass like a hot check
This rap shit comes easy my pens wet
Grinding to get my own Patek
Sliding on any bitch with disrespect
Wet you up
Then say a prayer next
Got my foot on they necks
Fuck Fiji
You ever heard of Glacier water
Diamonds froze
This is what we call law and order
Snatched waist, cute face, no sponsor
Rule seven five play with yours before you play with mine
Only five star cuisine
Pass me da lobsta
I go by BB but you call me miss mamas
He loves me I ain't neva with da drama
Throw this ass back let's make a mantra
Get in loser we're going shopping
To blow a bag you can't count
A true Texan I pop my trunk and screw it up
Niggas is bitches too
Put y'all in pot
Seafood is my favorite food
Sprinkle Old Bay & Lemon Butter This song is rude
I don't give a fuck we must address these rules
Ya, ya, ya, ya

One, two, three that's how the opps click
Four, five load up the chopsticks
Six, seven a bih better pray they go to heaven
Eight, nine, ten where's the reverend



Credits
Writer(s): Kristen Phillips
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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