moe chipps & billionz feat. az – hold up lyrics
okay, okay
okay
i mean a n-gga nice
hold up
i got a new taste
beat it real bad, i just got me a new case
lame brand sh-t on the floor, she naked
her friend bored, tell her i got suttin’ to play with
don’t wanna know your name or where was born ma, sh-t
my joint joint hard as a door kn-b
say grace, my face right where the food at
headin’ a patrol, who told you to do that?
got your mums lookin’ at me sideways
she never seen her daughter so open, shawty
you the real nvp, she westbrook
got me actin’ petty, let me see how your ex look
hold up
hold up, be patient
the schedule
the train finna pull in your station
i ain’t doin’ much, i ain’t nuttin’ you used to
you gon’ feed me, you gon’ call me the uber
you gon’ have a bottle when all of this smoke up
i just go ham, i came for the cold cuts
had the girls chasing me since third grade
i had ’em all, now i’m out looking for mermaids
ayy, i’m on one
she gotta rock one more mic and the tour done
so train line on my bedroom, naked
smellin’ like gucci and shaved but i hold up
hold up, let me get ’em
money make a n-gga feel good
i’m out here in hollywood but i’m still hood
prolly with bros that switch they bags up
came from the bottom but step they swag up
pushing it on whips, big boy toy sh-t
got they own chips, don’t need employment
poppin’ them corks now, sippin’ on merlot
my homie like hawk now, he home on the furlough
hold up
i’m hoppin’, i’m two steppin’ the steel doin’ diamond
i’m f-ckin’ with two rare bit
flyin’ from the sky, it’s high, are you threatened?
every flow fire, yeah am i to do chef and stir it up?
a scally rather get gully but throw it up
she lucky i let her f-ck me and suck me, say hey up, huh
tryna get by, back on the dance floor
got my temps tight, chipps and that boy billionz
bringing the coast back, it’s lit and we’re your ill-uns
so b-tch get the prozac
bell for these suiters, with us, females with the cutest figures
this is h-ll for the food, it’s bitter
can tell we some cooler n-ggas
hold up
can’t stop, it won’t stop
i know n-ggas that don’t cop, they won’t pop
it’s back to the mailbox and sell tops
i’ve offered ’em l spots and jail locks
i do this for deeds, young was my n-gga jackson
got burnt with the petrone, my n-gga p-ss
finna get me a bigger bag
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