Pop It

I still go hard no i don't quit
I chase the paper not a bitch
We not the same no we not twins
I fill my bag and fill again
Cause counting money give me chills
Take care of my family and the bills
Oh god protect me while i sin
I'm liftin' up this ain't a gym
Man i go stupid this shit trim
You start a scene i start a film
She love it when i chocke her hard and then her face request my spit
My bag is Louis and not Goyard dressin, 5k on my skin
I'm smoking dubis never sober, i swear to god i can't resist
Oh absolutly pocket loaded counting money hurts my wrist
Yeah how i'm moving man i told you every movement is legit
Yeah i'm so groovy, i'm a soldier and i fight just till the end
Yeah i be coolin' like October no i can not rock counterfeits
Cause Bitch i'm lit!

Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
I'm movin' solo
Rock it
Burberry not Polo
Cop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
I run it up (run it), you thought i was sprinter ya ya (i run it up)
I'm spitting facts (facts), you thought i was a printer ya ya

Ya ya
Ya ya
I'm spittin' facts
Ya ya
Ya ya

I put the check in my backpack
Head from the back is a snapback
Was so intense man she felt that
Right through the map got no jetlag
I go fast like it's a racetrack
Yeah i'm so bad i'm the red flag
She ride me good she's a Hellcat (skr)
I want the cash where the bag at?
Oh no lactose my pockets cheesy (cheesy)
Ass so juicy i'm gon' squeeze it (squeeze it)
Yes love it just like Jeezy (I love it)
Neck is hurting so i freeze it (bitch, haa)
I go hard and i don't tease it
You can hate me i don't feel it
I'm a king i feel like Gillie
Why so fake man i can see it
I'm so sick and i can't heal it
If i say it then i mean it (yeah bitch i mean it)
I let it poppin' to the ceiling (haa)

Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it (shesh)
Pop it (ha)
Pop it
Pop it (let's go)
Pop it (let's go)
I'm movin' solo (haa)
Rock it
Burberry not Polo
Cop it (whoow)
Pop it (what?)
Pop it (ha)
Pop it
Pop it (ha)
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
Pop it
I run it up (run it), you thought i was sprinter ya ya (i run it up)
I'm spitting facts (facts), you thought i was a printer ya ya

Hella High



Credits
Writer(s): Fabrizio Matranga
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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