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shawn scrilla – mulsanne lyrics

[intro]
memphis got the money bags

[chorus: shawn scrilla]
last week was bentley coupe but i just whipped up with the mulsanne
i just copped a new chain and a duffle bag like 2 chainz
pack drop like saddam, i got bombs n-gga, hussein
chasin’ bags, swear these b-tches left behind like loose change
these lil n-ggas breakfast, they get ate, f-ck a food chain
gucci my umbrella, p-ssy n-gga i don’t do rain
balenciaga toes, i kick drip n-gga, liu kang
all black, i’m with that robbin’ sh-t, b-tch i’m bruce wayne

[verse 1: hoodrich pablo juan]
when i pull up my car and my b-tches exotic
finna whip up a new mclaren
gucci sandals when i’m running my errands
forty on me like i’m licensed to carry
vs diamonds with the clarity
diamonds like strippers, i got em staring
we had to take it, these n-ggas wasn’t sharing
riding with a brick and trapped out the abandoned
dope beatin’, trap trampoline
i’m the plug but i still serve the dope fiends
i’ll sell you ten bags for seventeen
i bust the seal on a pint of lean
that b-tch strawberry, vanilla ice cream
i’m in the streets like martin luther king
fifty on my watch, ten on my ring
bet i’ma hit with that glock with a beam

[verse 2: shawn scrilla]
ap, it’s a forty-one, choppers shoot like tommy guns
got my shooter in the system, he gon’ hit you for a honey bun
pew pew like 21, we don’t do no one on one
king scrilla, i cannot be cloned, b-tch i’m one of one
i put an eighth in a ‘wood, my name hold weight in the hood
swear the chopper be the bodyguard, everywhere i go i’m good, ooh
i do a hit in a coupe, woo
i pour a four, not a deuce, splash
mad purse full of cash
b-tch i be drippin’, i’m givin’ out dab
straight drop, no cuts
i’m sellin’ dogfood to a mutt
deliver the work n-gga, pizza hut
b-tch i be eatin’, i poke out the guts
i weigh that sh-t up on a digi scale
can’t f-ck with too many ’cause these n-ggas tell
i get that bag and i blow it all
it ain’t no pressure, grow back like a lizard tail
better stop flexin’ them racks
my young n-ggas they gon’ strip like a chip ‘n’ dale
don’t play with me n-gga, this glock like a soda pop
got a carbon like ginger ale
he tried to run off and he failed
think i’m a l!ck, boy you goin’ to h-ll
ar, n-gga big sh-lls
i ran up my sack with the bricks and the bales

[outro]
memphis got the money bags

- shawn scrilla lyrics

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