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quavo, takeoff, young thug & gunna - chocolate lyrics

[intro]
durel made the beat, i’ma rock with it
dj durel

[chorus: quavo]
f+ck my lil’ money, i want her lil’ mouth
skeet on her, catching ’em out (skeet on her)
f+ck that lil’ sh+t that you talking bout’ (huh)
my wrist worth a bentley bentayga now (skrrt)
f+ck that lil’ b+tch, we gon’ take her down (smash)
ice on her wrist, kiss her finger now (ice)
pink double cup with the pinky out (double cup)
blue benjis long like a slinky now
locking in, you know the gang, we locking in (locking in)
hustling, yeah, stuff your pockets in (hustling)
jet with no passengers flying in (gone)
yeah, yeah, popping sh+t (popping sh+t)
lil’ bro ain’t gon’ play when he popping it (rahh)
ain’t nothing to say, no apologies (no)
get back to the trap on thе wireless (brrt, brrt)
[verse 1: quavo]
blessing thе city (city)
we going vacuum seal when we finish
you know the players like the redskins (skins)
i’m talking all clean, blue benjis
you know i told your b+tch if i’ma i spin it (spin it)
she gotta drop her top and show her tiddies
i got the 30 on me when i hit it (hit it)
i got the 10 and 3, i told ’em split it
42 with a little x, she gon’ mix it (woo)

[verse 2: takeoff & quavo]
it’s ice on both players, put ’em up, don’t violence (freeze)
fire, (brrt) and start hearing the sirens (whoo, whoo)
they wanna go viral (you want to)
hop in my coupe, drop the top of my roof
pull off and skirt my tires (skkrt, yeah)
bad b+tches be hotter
walk in the spot and we finna surprise ’em ([?])

[chorus: quavo & young thug]
f+ck my lil’ money, i want her lil’ mouth
skeet on her, catching ’em out (skeet on her)
f+ck that lil’ sh+t that you talking bout’ (huh)
my wrist worth a bentley bentayga now (skrrt)
f+ck that lil’ b+tch, we gon’ take her down (smash)
ice on her wrist, kiss her finger now (ice)
pink double cup with the pinky out (double cup)
blue benjis long like a slinky now
locking in, you know the gang, we locking in (locking in)
hustling, yeah, stuff your pockets in (hustling)
jet with no passengers flying in (gone)
yeah, yeah, popping sh+t (popping sh+t)
lil’ bro ain’t gon’ play when he popping it (rahh)
ain’t nothing to say, no apologies (no)
get back to the trap on the wireless (brrt, brrt, set)
[verse 3: young thug]
locking the bando on me
never water the baking soda then i whip till’ it’s harder
i popped out the crib with your lil’ bitty daughter
i f+cked her and put that lil’ ho in a [?]
the bentley, the ‘rari, i f+ck with the bands
i parked the rolls car then hopped in a sedan
i just had got that b+tch from my mans, so i was f+cking that ho with my chain in my hand
all gold rollie with a off+white tan
my son got a saint laurent ring on his hand
i just copped some molly, was looking like sand
sh+ttin’ on n+ggas, [?] sh+t stains
i kick my sh+t, like jackie chan
peanut b+tter wrist, f+ck a n+gga saying?
take it off his wrist, serve a n+gga strands
look at my neck and my wrist, from ‘pan

[verse 4: gunna]
big face patek with a chocolate band
look at my wrist, don’t take no dance (take no dance)
fly the aircraft, 500 on land (land)
new age flex, 200 on sedan (200)
35 hundred on blue jean pants (yeah, suede)
yeah, chrome heart brand (chrome)
throw the money up, barely pop another band (pop another tag)
b+tch p+ssy popping on the stand (woah)
we running like green light, all of ’em getting ran (skkr)
pretty b+tches on d, and all of ’em getting ran
f+ck all the police, free my dawg out the can
whip top of the v, double cup in my hand
big dior, i p drip in louis v vans (skkr)
looking at me like she want a advance (woah)
i’m take one more pill and the rest in my hand
wunna, yeah, might cost you a arm and a leg
[chorus: quavo]
f+ck my lil’ money, i want her lil’ mouth
skeet on her, catching ’em out (skeet on her)
f+ck that lil’ sh+t that you talking bout’ (huh)
my wrist worth a bentley bentayga now (skrrt)
f+ck that lil’ b+tch, we gon’ take her down (smash)
ice on her wrist, kiss her finger now (ice)
pink double cup with the pinky out (double cup)
blue benjis long like a slinky now
locking in, you know the gang, we locking in (locking in)
hustling, yeah, stuff your pockets in (hustling)
jet with no passengers flying in (gone)
yeah, yeah, popping sh+t (popping sh+t)
lil’ bro ain’t gon’ play when he popping it (rahh)
ain’t nothing to say, no apologies (no)
get back to the trap on the wireless (brrt, brrt)

- quavo takeoff young thug gunna lyrics

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