Hot Wings

(Get money)

I'm the big homie now

Don't forget that

I'm the big homie now

I got my spawn Louis Vutton

Truck in the front, what are you doing?

I look so good, don't call me 'Unc'

She wanna suck, this ain't a Buick

I pull it up, they wanna fuck

We gon' get high, what are we doing?

I got some Percs, I got a pound

I got a crib, let's go get to it

I got a semi, I got a Draco

Word to my family

Straight out of Caico

Thought I was sweet

Just like a Faygo

But I had killers

All on my payroll

Watch how I move

Just like it rayon

64 chains, just like the crayons

I bought a hat, the one with the 'A' on it

Pulled out my dick, told her to stay on it

I had a paper tag on three of 'em

I had the top dropped with the free on it

I told 'em deuce, one like Deion

I say "Deuce, one, like Deion"

I go Bruce Wayne on you peon's

I fuck with the Falcon's, true (True)

Have more sacks than a lineman

I should'a got a Heisman too

****, huh, shoot 'cause they hikin' that (Hike)

Check like a Nike hat (Yup)

I got the Midas pack, (Ugh)

Told the bitch "Quiet, relax" (Ugh)

I got my hoe on the other line

I'm not Bi-polar, but borderline

I just might switch lanes

Drop 'em off, go back, get fried

That's all she want, hot wings

Bitch, you fuckin' for some hot wings

Bitch, you fuckin' for American Deli

Bitch, you fuckin' for some ice cream

She just want her a twenty piece

All flats with the lemon pepper

I was the first one to put her in a first class

Bitch, get your shit together

Bitch ain't never flown before

Bitch tried to come through security

With some tennis shoes on, hoe

Take the shit off, bitch

Real, big, big, boss music (Boss music)

Big boss music

Big boss, big, big boss music (Boss)

That big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

That big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

You better get used to it

Ain't no fallin' off, **** goin' straight up

You better get used to it

I need a raise, ain't takin' pay cuts

You better get used to it

100 for a verse, 100 for a show

You better get used to it

Every ten, a mil on the low

I'm all 'bout the bag

No need to brag (Brag)

Ring costs a Jag (Jag)

Dreads to the back like a shag (Shag)

Smoke you like cig in the mag

I'm all over that

They callin' me Flair

They callin' me DiBiase

My girl ballin', Taurasi

2 Chainz, time Versaci

They don't sell 'em in Foot Locker

Curve game on BluBlocker

Southside with a F

F stand for a few options

Dealership, I don't do auctions

Fuck clothes, I need a new closet

My new watch is moonwalkin'

This somethin' she don't do often

Bitch ain't never flown before

Bitch tried to come through security

With some tennis shoes on, hoe

Take the shit off, bitch

Real, big, big, boss music (Yeah)

Big boss music

Big boss, big, big boss music (I'm the big homie now)

That big boss music

Big, big, big boss music (I'm the big homie)

That big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music (I'm the big homie now, yeah)

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

(I'm the big homie now, yeah)

(I'm the big homie now)