Текст пісні
I just hit NY
And you know I was on a private jet flight
Going back to LA, going back to LA, yeah
Yeah, yeah, finna go hit LA
Finna call my twizz up, yeah
Finna go back to re-up, yeah
Finna go back (yeah)
Going back to LA
Bitch, I'm going back to LA
I spent a week in NY, but I'm going back to LA
Going back to LA (going back to LA)
Yeah, I got some pints on the way and some Percs on the way
So I'm going back to LA, I find the sun (going back to LA, yeah)
I got couple of vibes that gon' slide to the crib and eat a lil' supper
Yeah, I woke up when it's night, finna boot off this X
And go to sleep when I see the sun (boot up, yeah)
I hit the double R dealership, I got a Rolls-Royce umbrella
Yeah, bring back the coupe, I ain't feeling it, high with the gods
Then I'm up 'til infinity
Yeah, Maison Margiela that bitch, I went and put paint on her face
All of my twizzies been running this shit the fuck up every day
They can't keep up the pace (run it up)
I'm in a mansion by myself (yeah, yeah)
And the cologne came from YSL (yeah, ow)
Fucking this bitch up in any room, she can't contain herself (yeah)
Yeah, bitch, you know what's going on (yeah)
Uh, bitch, you know who going up (uh-huh)
Yeah, all my brothers know it's up
Yeah, bitch, I always run it up (a yo)
Yeah, bitch, all that ain't nothing to us (nothing to us)
Bitch, all I do is run it up (whoo)
Yeah, bitch, I took the coupe to the telly and valet
Bitch, I came out the beast like I'm in Belly
All of my diamonds is flawless
I left the bank, I ain't make no deposit
You would've thought my twizzy went off his mop
Pulling up with a 5.56 (yeah, whoo)
And you would've thought I would've been the one that died
But the gun got the tits on it (tits)
I only rap 'bout the shit that I do, I live
I sip on the Wock', I don't sip on no Pibb (yeah)
I can't even say that they fell off
'Cause they ain't even get on (yeah)
Yeah, they wanna sit back and talk they shit
They don't got nothing to piss on (nothing at all)
Called up Eliantte, canary diamonds, all them pissed on (brrt, brrt)
Called up my wrists and told 'em I'm finna put a hundred thousand on 'em
Yeah, my AP speaking in French, that bitch got baguettes on it (yeah, oui)
I ain't rocking no twenties, no fifties, no old hundreds
Yeah, new blue hundreds, yeah, all that's on me (no)
I done lost my grills, called the tooth fairy up and took a loss on it (took a lil' L)
Yeah, I ain't in no telly, I'm in the belly, in Corvette, let's floor the gas now (ride out)
Who is your brodie? Why they capping 'bout they rapping? They ain't even live 'bout (cap 'bout)
Yeah, I been doing this shit for so damn long, I done learned everything (yeah)
Going back to LA
Yeah, bitch, I'm going back to LA
I spent a week in NY, but I'm going back to LA
Going back to LA (going back to LA)
Yeah, I got some pints on the way and some Percs on the way
So I'm going back to LA, I find the sun (going back to LA, yeah)
I got couple of vibes that gon' slide to the crib and eat a lil' supper
Yeah, I woke up when it's night, finna boot off this X
And go to sleep when I see the sun (Boot up, yeah)
I hit the double R dealership, I got a Rolls-Royce umbrella
Yeah, bring back the coupe, I ain't feeling it
High with the gods, then I'm up 'til infinity
Yeah, Maison Margiela that bitch, I went and put paint on her face
All of my twizzies been running this shit the fuck up every day
They can't keep up the pace (run it up)
I'm in a mansion by myself (yeah, yeah)
And the cologne came from YSL (yeah, ow)
Fucking this bitch up in any room, she can't contain herself (yeah)