Top Songs By 4
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
4
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Grayson Harris
Lyrics
Danuel House
Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Grayson Harris
Producer
Lyrics
Double R truck, I'm countin' money while I'm stunnin'
Came from bottom, wrist dancin' and my neck floodin'
Hunnid racks in Louis bag, you know these niggas love it
Used to be broke, down bad, turned nothin' into somethin'
Bulletproof whip, can't shoot through this, bro, then why you hide it?
AP on my wrist, I bent her wrist, it's perfect timing
Played back in a double R, now I'm steady reclinin'
For the house, for the racks, this shit be shinin'
Spend 75 for the house up in the market
Gucci on my body red like I work at Target
Spend 100 for another nigga parking
Pull up to the mansion, that house big like I'm in Hobbit
We fly G5, baby, you know I tip the pilot
This ice on me blindin', yeah, this na call perfect timing
Put it in rewind, baby, don't waste my time
That bitch like to talk nasty, put them hunnids on my mind
I told you I'd stay off the road, but all I know is grind
Saw my cousin make a hundred wheels and frame a mine
Put 150 on my body, no cosign
I done got so rich, all the bank lights blind
I hit the jackpot, they ain't gon' know, but it's gon' be some signs
We hit the club, walk through the back door, we here, just read the signs
Send my security out to pick the baddest shit standin' in line
No need no niggas drinkin' my liquor up, let's get these bitches high
Let's have a drip check, spend 7,500 on gettin' fly
I'm pourin' wack inside the cream, just dropped a four like I'm a five
But I'm a six-mile legend, we don't run and we don't hide
Better not be in the car when they come spinnin' and you gon' die with 'em
I ain't gotta pay no bitch to stuff, I'm finna fly with 'em
You ain't finna tell on me, my boy, I'm goin' by myself
The last nigga who played, he thought it was a game, he got the bill
That one nigga who played, he can't even walk, his ass sittin' on the shelf
Make it rain inside the bar, they better send some fuckin help
It ain't no way that they gon' kill me, I'm already fresh to death
Louis timbs was 3,000, this designer when I stepped
She done bumped into a real one, now she may never come back
Remember the first time I dropped it in the pot, it ain't come back
On the road to riches, I hit some potholes and caught a flat
I lost everything I had a couple times and I shook back
I blow all this shit today, tomorrow I know I'ma get it back, yeah
I blow all this shit today, tomorrow I know I'ma get it back, yeah
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