m1llionz - #1take (part 2) lyrics
[verse]
nokia’s on lanyards
before rap, i couldn’t get no money on my bank card
i had to give a chick cash to transfer; it was mad hard
now i attach brackets, make me think i’m better as a trapstar
lyca signal always chipping out, i need a better sim
barber shop never got no service when i get a trim
first 24’s, he was nervous, needs to settle in
now i’m on the phone like, “check it, yo!”
like how does that make sense, and how did that happen?
rizla for the dark; when i weigh it, sometimes i back+strap it
cling ain’t sticking, i light it, then i’m back tagging
i was billing phones when southacre was black ganging
writing down numbers in bookies; g, i ain’t gambling
find the smallest shot in a parcel and tell him, “sample it.”
made too many crumbs when i chopped it until i mastered it
either way, i’m saving the dust
yo, it’s like rearview scanning often, brick phone spazzing constant
switched up the route on the p’s, tryna land from boston
weed from north cali; it’s extortion getting packs in compton
join my telegram if you got traps in london
i had mine, but i seen tunde pull up with a bigger tool
going bossanova in la, it feels like liverpool
link the chinese man for 20 mids, i told him, “likkle more.”
tryna get them back to west brom like jake livermore
styrofoam and weigh a couple z’s if the bud is dense
if it don’t work, take it off, then try to cup again
vac packet ’cause it came in loose like a muscle stretch
before it even landed, i had nothing left
i said, chopping down a crop, i can’t breathe; my asthma playing up
dropped off a + to a sale, i told him, “stay in touch.”
you can do it just like us, but you ain’t brave enough
mum, i can’t stop it; i ain’t made enough
listen, told bro, “don’t put it on the pallet unless it’s been arranged,”
’cause recently, these parcels from la been taking 60 days
p said he sent 10, but one of them’s a different strain
and if it’s great, i’ll bag it up and tag it with a different name
this silly b+tch got gassed in duty+free and almost missed the plane
told bro, “i can get it into dam, just get it on the train.”
watched a man leave it in the rain; i seen a brick decay
and right now, i sent it from the…
listen, yo
i don’t need friends; i need addresses. can you pattern it?
can’t be bae if she ain’t in the crib receiving packages
you ain’t gotta worry about it, girl, because i’m tracking it
just phone them up to find out how to pay and what the balance is
do you know how hard it is to find a consistent cali link?
scr+p the bentayga, pay a thousand for the damages
if it lands or don’t land, it’s just the law of averages
box was empty; i think they…
listen, turn on the ac and plug my phone in the usb
no, i can’t daydream
f+ck the summertime, it’s only operation make p’s
fresh outta jail, still serving to the same fiends
tryna get my worker ot before the train leaves
but he keeps getting confused on the platform
why you think i told that n+++a download the app for?
missed the first two; i had to divert and blank shawn
told claire that you’ll see me pull up in a black ford
and i ain’t even in the spot yet
five fed cars on waze, i think they’re doing stop checks
bro caster said i’m live; i don’t send no hot texts
still [?] got stretched
you know my name, so why you think i’ll settle for a million?
so much ballers in the house you’d think the bagger was brazilian
my ting’s different. yo
i had to cut that b+tch off; she’s too friendly with my n+++as
went and got a rennie and drove to nv in a dingers
rizla wrap the buj and double wrap it with the clingers
if it’s cheap and don’t stick, we use the lighter or our fingers
0’16 in passapa with the skinners
know my ting; i leave the party with the slimmers
cruising away with two baddies in a bimmers
then summertime, kingston, 11 with the k!llers
i’m from a place where all the gangsters wear prada kicks to funerals
inside the club, we fix our burners in the cubicles
cutting nails, there’s probably gsr up in your cuticles
had to block that b+tch to add shots to the movie nuff
now i’m up in paris, getting +
i said, now i’m up in paris, doing shows, getting groupie love
missionary f+ck, my right hand do the coochie rub
listen, i said, like the +n+log stick, my right hand do the coochie rub
i don’t know what to do; somebody ’bout to shoot
suck your mum; get along. no putty tat. you hear that (bow)
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