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Hey "ian, wake yo' ass up, always smokin' weed" I was late to my last show 'cause I was smokin' weed I just caught a flight and woke up eatin' new cuisine Spent time with a five and turned that bitch to a Hadid Plane back to Cali', I need gas at my doorstep Boy run his mouth, I'm runnin' straight to his ho crib (Bitch) I could give a goddamn who you roll with I'm O.T. 'cause ain't no Winfrey, shoutout Oprah Had to leave you quick, this freaky bitch kept tryna feel me Always chattin' shit, boy, you worse than Wendy Williams Tried of all these sorry hoes always tellin' sob story Get up off my couch and get a motherfuckin' job, shorty S-s-so much mud in my cup, bitch, I'd prolly leave a stain Should've bought some real estate, my dumbass bought a chain Ridin' with my killers, bitch, we make you feel somе pain So damn high, a nigga startin' to talk like Johnny Dang Baby Sosa always want the colors with some wings That's why I go up and sеt that Lambo' on them things Run up on the gang, we take your bitch-ass to the range Send you to the sky, you're just not goin' on a plane Nigga, I don't know you, I don't wanna shake your hand Life give you lemons, make a lemonade stand Letras de cancionesMoney over bitches, nigga, we only chasin' Ben Three things I won't take: shit, pussy, and a stan See me in the hood, I'll probably sell your ass a kilo And when I was broke, bitches still was droppin' steelo On a Lamborghini yacht, ho, I ain't settlin' for a speedboat Bought my cars cash, so them bitches can't get repo'd Plane back to Cali', I need gas at my doorstep Boy run his mouth, I'm runnin' straight to his ho crib (Bitch) I could give a goddamn who you roll with I'm O.T. 'cause ain't no Winfrey, shoutout Oprah Had to leave you quick, this freaky bitch kept tryna feel me Always chattin' shit, boy, you worse than Wendy Williams Tried of all these sorry hoes always tellin' sob story Get up off my couch and get a motherfuckin' job, shorty '16 Westbrook, you're cool, but your team suck Ran up four million in a plain fuckin' T-shirt I could take your ass to school, get to teachin' No, I don't remember what you told me, I was geeked, bitch Boy, you gettin' way too old for a finsta Ho straight from 90210, she don't get nothin' Throwed off a different type of dope, I don't feel nothin' I could probably pay for your whole bowl with a fit pic' Treat the 'Rari like a motherfuckin' RipStik She treat the Molly like it's motherfuckin' candy I could walk a mile in them sorry-ass sandals It's paper on the ground, tell me, why the hell I stand up? On God From Letras Mania