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em savage - slat lyrics
chorus
i got cash ,i got bags , i got racks b-tch
giving em swag b-tch
riding wit a mac b-tch
my lifestyle lavish
you don’t get no dap b-tch
you not my slat b-tch
i f-ck wit real hoes
we don’t do that lame sh-t
got swag for days b-tch
trying ride my wave (dip )
i pour that liq (sip)
slide on em no rip stick
40 wit a big clip
new pack delicious
(verse 1)
wait wait new pack delicious
new drip ridiculous
pull up his wing spilt
suck d-ck she lick lick
that ack i sip sip
them diamonds drip drip
you boys is b-tches
run up them bands gotta go to the bank
the sh-t that you talking i swear that’s it’s fake
my n-gg-s pull up they shoot at ya brain
we smoking on n-gg-s this sh-t ain’t a game
play with the gang and you know how we come
nino’s and ladders attached to the gun
whenever we pull up lil n-gg- you run
n-gg-s be f-ggets they rocking a bun
word to my momma was out in them trenches i dealt wit some fake friends on the road
found out they p-ssy them boys wasn’t rocking and n-gg-s they changed up for the glow
i know some n-gg-s who claim they be recking when shots got the fire them n-gg-s they froze
claim that you pressing the go
swear that these n-gg-s is p-ssy on bro (on bro)
i drip wit my slime
smoking on gas i’m high
can’t feel my eyes
shades on i need disguise
ziplock that’s in my ride
ya b-tch inside
call nas yeah that’s my guy
the feds they parked outside
cause they know that
(chorus 2 )
i got cash
i got bags
i got racks b-tch
giving em swag b-tch
riding wit a mac b-tch
my lifestyle lavish
you ont get no dap b-tch
you not my slat b-tch
i f-ck wit real hoes
we ont do that lame sh-t
got swag for days b-tch
trying ride my wave ( dip )
i pour that liq sip
slide on em no rip stick
40 wit a big clip
new pack delicious
(verse 2)
and n-gg- i came from the mud
had to go grind for this sh-t they ain’t give me no love
i’m dripping in fendi
see that i got me some bands now she wanna lick me
pulling her remy
bro in the back he gotta stay close to simmy
n-gg-s be fishy
buss on her face then get wit me
gotta get back on grizzy
i smoke me some gas and i’m dizzy
my boy off them pills he be trippy
my boy off them pills it be risky
cause i know if i spot em he get em
goyard bag
match my rafs
tell ya b-tch
throw it back
you got cash
where it’s at ?
you know me
i got bags
you my son
i’m yo dad
pull up foreign
in that jag
dripping fashions
wit my slats
my b-tch bad
and f-ck all the oppers they mad
tryin run and we hitting his back
f-ck a b-tch and she can’t get attached
turn around and just me the neck
swear that a young n-gg- blessed (yea)
me and gang bout to run up them checks (yea)x2
(chorus 3 )
i got cash
i got bags
i got racks b-tch
giving em swag b-tch
riding wit a mac b-tch
my lifestyle lavish
you ont get no dap b-tch
you not my slat b-tch
i f-ck wit real hoes
we ont do that lame sh-t
got swag for days b-tch
trying ride my wave (dip)
i pour that liq sip
slide on em no rip stick
40 wit a big clip
new pack delicious
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