Слова песни Moneybagg Yo & Lil Baby & Rylo Rodriguez — No Chill текст
Try to dumb it down but I’m too rich to act like
I was broke
Gucci store 7500 on a leather coat
Free the bros yeah
I prolly say that shit on every song
Corner store held me down
I didn’t have nowhere else to go
He kickin doors bruh didn’t have no clothes and mom was on the dope
We switchin up
Got our hands on pistols we start stickin up
Jus give it up he got a bad temper he be quick to bust
My life is rough
We weren’t goin to school we tryna run it up
Walk to the bluff
Free lil Jock and D can’t say that shit enough
A stolen truck We got on the chase we had got away
And tony make Lupo caught the case
That shit that was cray
Marco survived
He got in another race somebody died
I been in the streets since I was 9 for real
Think this money got me traumatized ain’t got no time to chill
I know if a bitch won’t then my mama will I can’t lie
I’ve popped a lotta pills
To get me in my mode but I can’t take no mo
All this pain don’t know how to feel
I was taught if you gone take it go on and take it don’t know how to steal
Fuck the ops we gotta kill
Slide back on that same drill
Let me stick it out the window
Imma drive the wheel
All white my teeth I had to travel overseas
Lil bitch wanna bless and told her fuck me till she sneeze (choo)
Yes, them my Cartiers they keep askin what are these (what’s that)
Coco from the floor up all I rock is double C’s (nay nay)
No slowin down Shop with BGE we havin a lotta pounds
Ja Morant 12 bows in the air caught him and dunked it down
He hidin out I jus got the drop he on my side of town
I’m fresh to def had on Balency runners but I walked em down
Lil bitch bad she call me dad like I’m a father figure
Triple beam under the bed cause I can’t wait to hit her (Can’t wait)
You know the rules can’t bust a move if I ain’t got my pistol (Can’t do dat)
Count it up a half a mil then get a finger blister
This shit get ugly shit get mad real
2 hittaz behind me they my ad libs
Put on every chain still ain’t got time to chill
Choose one you want attention or a hundred mil niggas don’t be on shit no mo so
I don’t do favors Dior, Louis V, Amiri I got on a few flavors (Drip)
Gang gang around this bitch I like a fool savor
He wanna be famous fuck it put him cross the newspapers
Cuban Link around my neck even tho I’m a nigga
10 inch haters I’ll prolly shoot my shot at Serena Williams
I did some shit Beyonce way before I heard by jigga
Where I’m from you gotta felony you still gotta keep a pistol
Bring it down in traffic weigh it up in plastic
Lil hoe too savage fuckin her friend baby daddy
I had to crash in a trap house that bed had too much traffic
Shoot this bitch like Stackhouse he play for the Mavericks
Geekin in the club move around and the crowd get it
She let me fuck I was just finna ask could my dog hit it
Witnessed some dope boys 6 feet that got rich off midgets
I had fucked a cougar she ain’t even know these thousand dollar britches
Can’t be playin with these niggas can’t be playin with these hoes
I was a youngin on that doe like even though keys open doors
No one opens safes and my woman getting cake
And money in my pocket is a little too debate
But I’ll kill yo lil outfit
I wore it two days
Ya see henny
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