Lyrics

Real niggas came to party, Ace hood! Real niggas came to party I say, Lord have mercy all I wanted was a Beamer Had no pot to piss in, now I'm living, thank you Jesus Now my Rollie flooded, I'm not talkin bout Katrina Know I run my city, couple thousands for my sneakers It's going down, it's going down Burn the kush, on Ciroc, it's going down It's going down, it's going down Bad bitches, bring the whips, it's going down Ok, happy birthday nigga, everyday I'm getting cake What's today, it's Tuesday, bitch I might blow 100k Fuck that nigga they sleeping, it's a must I raise the stakes Can't play with a nigga no way, my drop is white as mayonaise Holy shit, better watch your bitch, Frito-Lay, gotta stack them chips Keep that tool Home Depot shit, and I keep two clips if a nigga do trip Boy you talk, I get money ridin around in that new 600 We them young niggas on the block who run it Evil Knievel, bro we stuntin okay Millionaire nigga, I got diamonds on my dick Boy, my swagger dope, I'm talkin 20 kilo bricks Just bought me an Aston and it came with a spanish bitch Diamonds got me froze like a PS3 glitch Ok, I go into my beast mode, rapper niggas I eat those I tell a bitch take a deep breath then bend em knee like a free throw I don't want me no good girl cause I fell in love with these freak hoes In my bedroom, I might make a movie and start me with that Lee Rose I ball like D-Rose, my stash on closet Racks all in my pockets, these racks all on deposits I got racks all on my conscience, money all on my mind I got shooters on my team, they got bodies on they night Look at that bad bitch right there, see that body on that dime I ain't swimmin in no ho, you know I'm probably on that right All these niggas hatin on me, but I ain't on that type Cause I be in that back, and I ain't talkin bout clock, whoa! Ok, now let's all say a prayer, since my swagger such a killer (Amen) Might just buy your chick and give her that dick filet for dinner (Yeah!) Nigga don't want no problems pistol pop you'll get this figure Lookin' at all my diamonds, it ain't hard to tell a winner Goin down goin down That potato on the barrel, no sound (Shhh) You see them foreigns? You see we touring? Me and Meek Mill the realest niggas born Pray!
Writer(s): Malcolm Young, Ronald Belford Scott, Angus Young Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out