Lyrics: James Haley
Music: James Haley
Yeah
Ay
Runnin' up the bands, ho
I can only shake hands with a fan ho
Lately I been locked in on the way up
That bitch a free-throw, I can't even lay-up
Gave me a key to her, lock yo' heart
And these 7.62's, they'll stop yo' car
I need diamonds, I want everything
Swear these **** go for anything, I put that on everything
Choppers sound like wedding bells, married to the murder game
Rafs came in heavyweight, bitch, you know I medicate
I got you hook like hold fanning
Ran out of lies, so you'll be honest
It's not a party with no molly
You in they mouth, you a lil' topping
Bad bitch syndrome
All these **** wanna rent you
I got problems I admit to
I need money, I need love, that's the issue
Tell the guys you bein' rude like fish fool
You can drop me in the field and I'll still move
I got problems I admit to
I got problems I admit to
I got problems I admit to
I was workin' like the rent due
Runnin' up the bands, ho
I can only shake hands with a fan ho
Lately I been locked in on the way up
That bitch a free-throw, I can't even lay-up
(That bitch a free-throw, I can't even lay-up)
That bitch a free-throw, I can't even lay-up