Lyrics
I'm in the yams on the strip
She gon dance on the dick
Richard Mille on my wrist
She got her lips done
But I don't want a kiss
And she puerto rican
But she look mixed
And she got that s**t on
Right now good fit
And I'm kind of lit right now
I'm trying to hit
And my chain hittin in the spot
I'm kinda different
Yeah pull up on the gang
I'm going to send a lyft
And I had the credit cards
Doing flips
Free Charlie Rock
He doing twenty six
And I had my nigga
Fucking on your bitch
All my brothers blood
I don't do friends
And Im from New York
But I don't do timbs
And I got the wood stick cardy lens
And I had the lanvin cardigan
Ziggy
It's Whythree aka fisherman key
Gotta bad bitch she work for
Postal blue box key
And she got them zips
I ain't talking about no weed
Made a hundred K off a grub
On my telly
Two for one showing
Love to you heathens
Running in them spots
I'm the one you should believe in
Diamonds dancing on my neck
Cause I got a check
Scotty keep going against the grain
I'm like alright bet
Ap all I know is Ap
Shorty super bad she goin crazy
And she gave me head
That shit amazed me
She just look up from her knees
Like she crazy
In Miami
I'm a bring it home
For the scammers
Whole city getting lit
It's money when you hear me
Whole city whole city
Whole city gettin lit
Bad act baddie yeah
I got a bad bitch
It's Key