Lyrics: Navraj Goraya/Wesley Glass/AMIR ESMAILIAN
Music: Navraj Goraya/Wesley Glass/AMIR ESMAILIAN
(Wheezy outta here)
To riches from rags
I just believed in myself and somehow, I made it out the block (Woah)
I hit the roof, I spend a twenty clip minimum every time I wanna shop
High out my mind, I might just go buy another pair of some shit I already got
I'm getting bags, I'm right in the middle of quarantine, made ten million on the dot
Rick Owen pants, my right pocket full of them Xans, I know that I said I would stop
Man with the plan, I told 'em just follow my lead and I took my whole team to the top
Don't check the tag and I don't check the receipt, if I see it, I want it, I cop
Shoutout [?] I got some connеctions in Queens, I get my jeans beforе they drop
Where do I start? All of my albums on charts, all of my cars push-to-start
I had no hope, I was just broke as a joke, I go shopping and I fill my cart
You wouldn't believe me, I just been taking it easy
Pockets they sloppy they cheesy
Made me feel guilty for all the shit I'm receiving
Your ex was looking deceiving
Beverly Hills, I told her to stay where my suite is
Told her the entry is keyless
I'm getting paid to go on the mic and I feel like Mike Jackson when she let me beat it
Feel like a champ, I got them Louis V pants, and they come with the permanent creases
Look at my feet, I got on them Travis Scott dunks, I got friends and them family pieces
I make the plan, then they gon' hop out the van and take you for whatever you got
My ***** is tan, I'm on a yacht out in Cabo, got villains that take out the block
When I get geeked, **** around, tell her I love her, but I really use her for sex
Let her be free, I ain't 'bout catching no feelings, I'm catching a flight on a jet
She try to leave me, no, I'm not taking it easy, **** on her friend, she upset
Knew I was smart, my teachers ain't think I'd achieve, gave a **** about passing a test
They wanna be me, million in diamonds, believe me, got rings, I could buy a Patek
Opps looking dusty, I got some demons, so trust me, keeping my foot on they neck
Where do I start? All of my albums on charts, all of my cars push-to-start
I had no hope, I was just broke as a joke, I go shopping and I fill my cart
You wouldn't believe me, I just been taking it easy
Pockets they sloppy they cheesy
Made me feel guilty for all the shit I'm receiving
Your ex was looking deceiving
Beverly Hills, I told her to stay where my suite is
Told her the entry is keyless
I'm getting paid to go on the mic and I feel like Mike Jackson when she let me beat it
Feel like a champ, I got them Louis V pants, and they come with the permanent creases
Look at my feet, I got on them Travis Scott dunks, I got friends and them family pieces (Wheezy outta here)