| Lyrics | Song |
|---|
| Nig**z know, Taylor Gang, Sunshine or Snow, Them ho*s running their best clothes, And I prolly fuc**d your bi*** nig**, Real Sh*t | |
| Empty bottles of Clicquot and ashes on the flo'. Towel under the do', we wasn't supposed to even smoke. I ain't trippin, never slip or slackin on my pimpin. | |
| Started from nothing, ended up with everything. From the house, to the whips, taking trips to any place that you care to name. Champagne, skydivin' | |
| Know what you're f***in with? A young star, baby! Ever met a **** like me? (Nope!) Not at all, baby. A coach player,I could show you how to ball, baby. | |
| I'm... Screaming f**k them nig**s who hated, I'm money affiliated, Speculated me landing, musta got me mistaken with lame nig**s. Know you gon get high as f**k as long as the plane | |
| Got so many tats. you can't even count 'em up, In the shop ery'week, I can't seem to get enough. My aunt said my skin too clean to mark it up | |
| And she dug my chain. Love my swag, how I does my thang. Love my slang, talk just like me, Say she proud to be taylor gang (taylor gang?) Man I'm paid | |
| Most girls wanna hide the fact that the thrill they chase it, But you, just wanna get drunk tonight and f**k someone famous. So I just name a time and a place and your game for it | |
| Wanna know if I can get you home, Hope we don't wake the neighbours. She lick her lollipop, And I'm her favorite flavor (yeaahh) | |
| to rock camo shorts, chuck tee and smoke papers, weed comin' in all flavors, fall up in the spot as long as the champagnes there, couple pretty hoes I don't know their name here | |
| Life's good, so I'm feeling great call me out of town shawty every week a different state. Three cell phones, pennslyvania plates. Hold up, hold up, hold up I said, | |
| My ni**as leanin', diddy boppin' Let's get it poppin', I said let's get it poppin' Just look at how she drop it, lil mama a certified pro She need her own show, slide on down that | |
| So what I keep ‘em rolled up? Saggin’ my pants, not caring what I show Keep it real with my ni**as Keep it player for these hoes | |
| Som Say Dat Im Next 2 Be Da Greatest (Jealous), And Jealousy Com Wit Secuss U Cant Escape It (Why) Dem Dirty A** Ni**as Who Stress U Wen U Cakin (Uh Huh) | |
| | Lyrics | Song |
|---|
| Last night I let the party get the best of me. Waking up in the morning: two hoes laying next to me. Plus I heard an officer arrested me. Good weed and cold drinks: that’s the mo | |
| The World turning, the weed burning, Them haters talking, I keep earning. Know some will say that life's a bi**h, Well I'ma keep flirtin | |
| Got money white people turn neighbors. Meet a girl teach her how to roll papers, six months three whips so player. run my town like the mayor I run my town bitch I'm like the mayor | |
| And they say all I rap about is bi*ches and champagne, You would too if every night you seen the same thing Money wall to wall, young famous ni**a, spend it all, when you die you c | |
| Its your anniversary isn't it, And your man ain't acting right. So you packin’ your Domiar luggage up callin’ my cell phone, try and catch a flight. | |
| Say the trees couldn't get better. Need this sort of weather. Sand beneath your toes, your drinks come with umbrellas. Cutting off our phones, ignoring important texts and email me | |
| Every time I speak I see a hundred grand. Rollin' so much weed it's like the motherland. ain't talkin' English, I'm talkin' rubber bands. Jacksons, Franklins, either one of them | |
| Highly faded but I'm highly paid, I just live my life. That s**t you ni**as trying to do, I guarantee I did it twice. They say life's a gamble, hit my joint and roll the dice | |
| What my swag is, retarded. What I’m driving, Ferrari. What I’m rocking, Armani, Gianni Versace, huh | |
| I done stay on top of my game, Gang controlling my lane. Paid so much for my frames, put these lil **** to shame. Ordered so many of them bottles, so many of them bottles you wou | |
| Diamonds all on my ring ni**a. Gold watches, gold chain ni**a. Hundred thou' on champagne ni**a. Yeah my money insane ni**a. | |
| Ballin’s not a hobby, its my occupation. hoes on my d*ck, thats my confirmation. couple stars with me, thats a constelation. Jacksons, Grants, Benjys, thats my conversation. | |
| I could be your bartender, tell me what you’re sippin’ on. girl, I’m not a travel agent so what you trippin’ on. you say I think I could make it happen cause I’m famous. | |
| Spent a couple dollars on my engine, motor roaring when I back out the garage. Gin got me drunk as f**k stumbling out the bar.Plus I'm struggling tryna find the keys to my car | |
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