In Line
Wait, bitch, don't talk to me
If you don't talk to me nice
I don't do cash ins, I don't do cash out
I don't do trap shit, bitch, I rap
I don't do lightwork, I don't do light work
I don't like to talk shit, I don't like cap
I don't like Trisha's, I don't like Tracy's
I don't like diapers, I don't like babies
I don't like broke shit, my nigga Pe$o
Told me I gotta get the bag, nigga
Next time a nigga talk shit on Instagram
We gon' find out where his momma live
I pull up to the house party looking like Virgil
Nigga I'm fancy, if
You really fuck with me, I fuck with you this shit ain't math
Cheeky got the city poppin' I got H-town on my back
I got GV on my back, I got Southside on my back
Nigga, I'm African I still make waves in ATL, they mad
Your own city don't like your shit, nigga
'Cause they know that your shit wack
I just chopped this beat and I told my nigga Pe$o
Run it up
Ayy
I'm back handing bitches that's begging for burken's
Too rich for the bitch and I know that for certain
Directing this shit like my name was Tim Burton
These chains on my neck got my vertebrae hurting
I sold my soul, and bought it back cheaper
Now I collect them just like the Grim Reaper
Fly as fuck Batman, Pe$o Jeepers Creepers
Pull up with two of 'em like Derrick Jeter
(Ayy, Shingie you mind if I hit my blunt real quick? *puffs*)
Peso, Peter Parker, Rick James with the MaryJane
King of the hill I'm like Hank with the propane
Country ass nigga, talk just like Boomhauer
White boy plug, look like Tommy off power
50 Ps make 'em stutter in a Eddie Bauer
That be the p-p-p-pounds
Broke ass nigga still tryna cop a dime bag
Please move the fuck from around
Me and myself and I, close my eye
And I can see through my eye
Mayday, mayday, nigga, ayy-ayy-ayy-ayy
Payday when every day, what the fuck is a tie?
I can lead the blind, you just have to feel the signs
I'm stepping on toes like I'm waiting in line
You're China
If you don't talk to me nice
I don't do cash ins, I don't do cash out
I don't do trap shit, bitch, I rap
I don't do lightwork, I don't do light work
I don't like to talk shit, I don't like cap
I don't like Trisha's, I don't like Tracy's
I don't like diapers, I don't like babies
I don't like broke shit, my nigga Pe$o
Told me I gotta get the bag, nigga
Next time a nigga talk shit on Instagram
We gon' find out where his momma live
I pull up to the house party looking like Virgil
Nigga I'm fancy, if
You really fuck with me, I fuck with you this shit ain't math
Cheeky got the city poppin' I got H-town on my back
I got GV on my back, I got Southside on my back
Nigga, I'm African I still make waves in ATL, they mad
Your own city don't like your shit, nigga
'Cause they know that your shit wack
I just chopped this beat and I told my nigga Pe$o
Run it up
Ayy
I'm back handing bitches that's begging for burken's
Too rich for the bitch and I know that for certain
Directing this shit like my name was Tim Burton
These chains on my neck got my vertebrae hurting
I sold my soul, and bought it back cheaper
Now I collect them just like the Grim Reaper
Fly as fuck Batman, Pe$o Jeepers Creepers
Pull up with two of 'em like Derrick Jeter
(Ayy, Shingie you mind if I hit my blunt real quick? *puffs*)
Peso, Peter Parker, Rick James with the MaryJane
King of the hill I'm like Hank with the propane
Country ass nigga, talk just like Boomhauer
White boy plug, look like Tommy off power
50 Ps make 'em stutter in a Eddie Bauer
That be the p-p-p-pounds
Broke ass nigga still tryna cop a dime bag
Please move the fuck from around
Me and myself and I, close my eye
And I can see through my eye
Mayday, mayday, nigga, ayy-ayy-ayy-ayy
Payday when every day, what the fuck is a tie?
I can lead the blind, you just have to feel the signs
I'm stepping on toes like I'm waiting in line
You're China
Credits
Writer(s): Leroy Twaibu, James Mckay Iv
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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