Lyrics
(Diego, Diego)
(Hitmaka!)
(B-B-Bankroll Got It)

Yeah
Pull up, drop the top, hopped out on an opp (skrrt)
Bought the baby Glock, bitch, I came to mop (pew, pew, pew)
Pocket full of knots, I get racks a lot (pew, pew)
Birkin for the chop', got these bitches shocked

I like them dope boys with them rolls
I can't beef with hoes (nah)
Rock Chanel with my white toes
And we speak in code (shh)
I like them dope boys with them rolls
I can't beef with hoes (nah)
I might boot up with my hoes
Make her eat it slow (yeah, yeah)

I might slap the shit out a bitch
Caught her playin' around (playin' around)
I rock Prada, fuck with baller, that be movin' pounds (trappers)
Make that nigga ice me out, these hoes gon' fuck for free though (free though)
I get chips like Cheetos, 1942 no Titos
Bitch, I'm quarantine clean, you can't touch me with gloves
Nigga rollin' off a bean, tryna shoot up the club (shoot up the club)
Hate when silly hoes talk crazy on the 'Gram, bitch, get your bag up
I'm a City Girl, with the backend, can't wait to go and act up

Yeah
Pull up, drop the top, hopped out on an opp (skrrt)
Bought the baby Glock, bitch, I came to mop (pew, pew, pew)
Pocket full of knots, I get racks a lot (pew, pew)
Birkin for the chop', got these bitches shocked

I like them dope boys with them rolls
I can't beef with hoes (nah)
Rock Chanel with my white toes
And we speak in code (shh)
I like them dope boys with them rolls
I can't beef with hoes (nah)
I might boot up with my hoes
Make her eat it slow (21, yeah, yeah)

I got M's for days, I like sticks and cake (21)
I'm a real stepper, I don't stand in line for J's (on God)
If that's your shooter, I hope you paid him minimum wage (21)
Caught his BM at the stop sign, she say she go both ways (on God)
I'm big 4L and they know that (21)
Run up on me I'ma blow that (straight up)
Please tell me where the opps at (straight up)
'Cause they never be where the hoes at (pussy)
What's your advance? I blow that (pussy)
Hunnid round drum, nigga, hold that (pussy)
Hi-Tech or Wock when I pour that (21)
Them niggas drink green with they broke ass (21)
Chrome Heart jeans with the racks in 'em (facts)
All my spots got plaques in 'em (facts)
All my cars got straps in 'em (big facts)
All my songs got facts in 'em (bigger facts)
All my opps got racks with 'em (21)
Slaughter Gang, I stick it at them (21)
Never been friendly, I don't dap niggas (21)
I don't want a Grammy, I'm a rap nigga (21)

Yeah
Pull up, drop the top, hopped out on an opp (skrrt)
Bought the baby Glock, bitch, I came to mop (pew, pew, pew)
Pocket full of knots, I get racks a lot (pew, pew)
Birkin for the chop', got these bitches shocked

I like them dope boys with them rolls
I can't beef with hoes (nah)
Rock Chanel with my white toes
And we speak in code (shh)
I like them dope boys with them rolls
I can't beef with hoes (nah)
I might boot up with my hoes
Make her eat it slow (yeah, yeah)

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Songtrust Ave, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, STREAMCUT MEDIA, LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Ace Redd, Alyssa Stephens, Christian Ward, Diego Ave, German Valdes, Joel Banks, London Jae, Shayaa Bin Abraham-Joseph, Taylor Banks




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