Top Songs By Sprite Lee
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Mitch Cooper
Songwriter
Kimetrius Foose
Songwriter
Lyrics
The Martianz (The Martianz)
VHS (VHS, VHS)
(Oh-oh)
Yeah
Saint Laurent boots for the queen
I got some racks in my jeans (Yeah, yeah)
Ain't even room for the P's
I make her holla for me (Yeah, yeah)
Told him I need some beats
Send me a pack for free (Yeah, yeah)
I hit the stu' with the team
Erryone of us a king, yeah (Yeah)
I hit record and I sit back
Never take a break, no KitKat
Yeah, yeah
I'm speakin' nothin' but big facts
Where you goin', where you get that?
Your jewelry fake as a big cap
Five percent tint on the Maybach
Pull up like, where is my KitKat?
My **** whippin' in foreigns, our pocket's enormous
We don't do nothin' but pay cash
Make sure y'all **** live when you're in the same room
Whole time you workin' nine to five
Except you out late too, yeah
The reason that you keep on trippin'
Is 'cause you ain't lace shoes (Get it)
I don't be trippin' on internet bullshit
'Cause all of that shit was some fake news
(Yeah)
We got the suicide, suicide doors
Some models at the crib and they naked on the floor
Walkin' around on the tip of they toes
But don't call her phone, she get done by the bro's
****, you know the code
I'ma just gonna hit it and go
Catch up, no love to a ho
She took the low
My neck and wrist on froze
Reason my heart so
I ain't wanna leave no stain
I ain't wanna hear no lame
I ain't mean to break my bank
Then I went and got some more drip
I didn't mean to pour this drink
No, I never meant to stay in this race
Wish I never would've caught that case
We'll leave it Florida Bay
Yeah
(Ooh)
Saint Laurent boots for the queen
I got some racks in my jeans (Yeah, yeah)
Ain't even room for the P's
I make her holla for me (Yeah, yeah)
Told him I need some beats
Send me a pack for free (Yeah, yeah)
I hit the stu' with the team
Everyone of us is a king, yeah (Yeah)
I hit record and I sit back
Never take a break, no KitKat
Yeah, yeah
I'm speakin' nothin' but big facts
Where you goin', where you get that?
Your jewelry fake as a big cap
Five percent tint on the Maybach
Pull up like, where is my KitKat?
My **** whippin' in foreigns, our pocket's enormous
We don't do nothin' but pay cash
We don't do nothin' but pay cash
Now I just pulled up in a Maybach
I'ma bust on that bitch, where her face at?
I'ma fuck around, give her a face tat'
All these drugs, we can never relapse
Smokin' gas, always keep a good batch (Yeah)
Lil' shawty got an attitude
I'm gonna calm her down with a couple racks
Thirteen hunnid for Amiri jeans
We be drippin' like a pint of lean
I can tell you wasn't on the team
Lame **** didn't make the league
Feel the love but they envy me
With the top shottas, I'm a MVP
Got straight heat from my enemies
They can get deceased, be a memory
Saint Laurent boots for the queen
I got some racks in my jeans (Yeah, yeah)
Ain't even room for the P's
I make her holla for me (Yeah, yeah)
Told him I need some beats
Send me a pack for free (Yeah, yeah)
I hit the stu' with the team
Everyone of us is a king, yeah (Yeah)
I hit record and I sit back
Never take a break, no KitKat
Yeah, yeah
I'm speakin' nothin' but big facts
Where you goin', where you get that?
Your jewelry fake, that's a big cap
Five percent tint on the Maybach
Pull up like, where is my KitKat?
My **** whippin' in foreigns, our pocket's enormous
We don't do nothin' but pay cash
Written by: Kimetrius Foose, Mitch Cooper, Nelida Yew