Me and Rich in here at 2 o'clock in the morning
More Saturday Night Tunes
You ironing your motherfuckin' leather sweat pants for the club
I'm about to blow the horn
Hurry ya ass up homeboy - it's on
Are you cashed up enough to weather the storm?
That shit coming for sure
Some look it right in the eye
Some niggas run for the door
I'm prepaired so I'ma stay right here
Front porch OG rocking chair
Putting that fucking doja in the air
You can find that anywhere
You'll be customer of the year now
Cause her man always hate
Now she wanna know how it taste
I'm in here rapping making up these tapes
Like I be wrapping up the weight
Calling them hoes bitches
Ten toes down I'ma stay g'd up
Calling them hoes bitches
Calling them hoes bitches
Ten toes down I'ma stay g'd up
Calling them hoes bitches
Weed lit, killer beats on loop
Repeat this until I step into the booth
And then I'm in that old school
From the grower, directly to you
I got so many styles it be hard to choose
Or just save 'em for later
For a chance to steal your sound
And then pretend to be the originator
Fake it till they make it
Bogus jewelry - fool, you just gold plated
My Chevy heavy, so is my bracelet
Not complacent, rather impatient
Can't be waiting on that paper
Spin move, juke and shaking
Choosing to get in this hustle
Could make you or break you
It's all on how you play it