trademark da skydiver & young roddy - on demand lyrics
[verse 1: young roddy]
and i could make a couple grand on a bad day
you riding or get rolled over
got roaches in my ashtray , got liquor in my cup holder
got k!llers on my payroll, i’m all about my pesos
where haven’t we been yet? i go places they can’t go
my homie on the run, he dodging court he trying to lay low
i put her -ss to sleep i beat that p-ssy, c-ssius clay though
got rubber band bank rolls, i used to slang that yayo
i’m trying to stay safe though, they murder everyday though
got fritos, doritos, all that sh-t on my plate though
from sundown to sun-up i’m trying to bake a cake though
like sp-ceman on sunset park, i don’t play though
i been fly, earned my wings and my halo
what up pedro, i could get it when i say so
my credit a-1, recorded this on take one
straight up, ay tell them p-ssy n-ggas pay up
sh-t they been sleeping too long, bout time they wake up
i swear i started broke but now my weight up
i swear they cooking birds without no apr-n
i swear my b-tch pretty with no makeup
i swear she f-ck me good and hook a steak up
i went from micky d’s to filet mignon
they player of the year like jeromey rome
my cousin [?]
swear he made a hundred grand with that trap phone
[hook]
straight up, hey tell them p-ssy n-ggas pay up
i’m getting to the riches, i ain’t tripping off these b-tches
straight up, hey tell them p-ssy n-ggas pay up
and i ain’t got no patience mane, stop faking with my paper mane
straight up, hey tell them p-ssy n-ggas pay up
i’m getting to the riches, i ain’t tripping off these b-tches
straight up, hey tell them p-ssy n-ggas pay up
and i ain’t got no patience mane, stop faking with my paper mane
[verse 2: trademark da skydiver]
i’m moving forward on my grind homie, i ain’t got time to backtrack
k!ll a beat like i hate tracks, raps tight like i ace rap
villain off in the building strapped i owe the game some payback
looking like a million, smelling like an open loud pack
resurface for the checks and respect, i need all that
these p-ssy n-ggas don’t wanna see me with it, what you call that?
blue b-tches in my nike box, 20 grand in my shoe rack
og live by the code of the streets, i ain’t a new jack
young nino brown i been putting it down, pulled off a few acts
i’m back like it was written, spitting different call it abstract
sh-tting on n-ggas like i took a pepto and an ex-lax
i’m coming for they head like red dots on their bape hats
it’s my time to sit at the table look where my plate at
me and my b-tch just trying to get rich like vanna and sajak
point me to the money guarantee i’m going to get that
big dog in the yard, bout to shake up all these stray cats
[hook]
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