No Time
I was never broke but you know I'm tryn get richer
Fuckin with my head I had to cut you out the picture
B*tch jus want some bread I threw like 100 on her figure
(oh my god Saint Laurent)
Oh my god Saint Laurent
B*tch jus tell me what you want
Louis, Gucci, Prada, Ahh
I'm just tryna f*ck me sumn
Double up it gets fun
Family be #1
I gotta chill out on the smoke I really can't remember nothing
(Nah I can't remember nothin lil b*tch I can't member nothin)
I be calling her my hoe but that's just for repercussions
(yea it's just for repercussions baby you know I still love ya)
Have my lil bro do the work i don't really feel like clutchin
Have my lil bro do the work that boy gon hit you with that FAH
All the racks in my denim I had stuffed a number 9
I could still see the fake n****s if I was blind
So what be making n****s wanna switch all the time?
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon eat me up aint waste no time
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon try and come play b*tch say goodbye
Got stars in the roof of the coupe when I walk in that b*tch got the shit going FAH
Want stars in the roof of the coupe lil n***a I aint ever gon copy your style
Lil b*tch tryna f**k, that's a fact, this bih foul
I'm jus tryna stack up my check ask me how
(Hollon how?)
(I, I, I) I aint ever tellin
Had to X off all ya feelins
Tint the V I slide with felons
(yuh) Make sure that you feel it
(YAH) Fry that boy no skillet
(YAH) Friday night I'm chillin'
Why they tryna make me villain?
He a B*tch ill never feel him we could never be the same
All my family be eatin b*tch like how ya call me lame?
And I treat that sh*t like (OJ)simpson take it to the grave
(YUH) Lil b*tch tryn get slayed
(YUH) Im jus tryn get paid
(YUH, YUH)
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon eat me up aint waste no time
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon try and come play b*tch say goodbye
Got stars in the roof of the coupe when I walk in that b*tch got the shit going FAH
Want stars in the roof of the coupe lil n***a I aint ever gon copy your style
Lil bitch tryna f*ck, that's a fact, this bih foul
I'm jus tryna stack up my check ask me how
(Hollon how?)
Fuckin with my head I had to cut you out the picture
B*tch jus want some bread I threw like 100 on her figure
(oh my god Saint Laurent)
Oh my god Saint Laurent
B*tch jus tell me what you want
Louis, Gucci, Prada, Ahh
I'm just tryna f*ck me sumn
Double up it gets fun
Family be #1
I gotta chill out on the smoke I really can't remember nothing
(Nah I can't remember nothin lil b*tch I can't member nothin)
I be calling her my hoe but that's just for repercussions
(yea it's just for repercussions baby you know I still love ya)
Have my lil bro do the work i don't really feel like clutchin
Have my lil bro do the work that boy gon hit you with that FAH
All the racks in my denim I had stuffed a number 9
I could still see the fake n****s if I was blind
So what be making n****s wanna switch all the time?
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon eat me up aint waste no time
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon try and come play b*tch say goodbye
Got stars in the roof of the coupe when I walk in that b*tch got the shit going FAH
Want stars in the roof of the coupe lil n***a I aint ever gon copy your style
Lil b*tch tryna f**k, that's a fact, this bih foul
I'm jus tryna stack up my check ask me how
(Hollon how?)
(I, I, I) I aint ever tellin
Had to X off all ya feelins
Tint the V I slide with felons
(yuh) Make sure that you feel it
(YAH) Fry that boy no skillet
(YAH) Friday night I'm chillin'
Why they tryna make me villain?
He a B*tch ill never feel him we could never be the same
All my family be eatin b*tch like how ya call me lame?
And I treat that sh*t like (OJ)simpson take it to the grave
(YUH) Lil b*tch tryn get slayed
(YUH) Im jus tryn get paid
(YUH, YUH)
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon eat me up aint waste no time
(that, that, that, that) That b*tch gon try and come play b*tch say goodbye
Got stars in the roof of the coupe when I walk in that b*tch got the shit going FAH
Want stars in the roof of the coupe lil n***a I aint ever gon copy your style
Lil bitch tryna f*ck, that's a fact, this bih foul
I'm jus tryna stack up my check ask me how
(Hollon how?)
Credits
Writer(s): Flex Prod Storm3
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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