Luyện nghe bài hát Oh Gee La

Look I can roll up some more weed
Or 22 more bottles of Don P
My Rolex shining, that's on Gs
The clothes that I got on are designers from
I pulled up getting high, told the valet to my keys
Hopped out, walk in that motherfucker, everything that I seen
Niggas hating, bitches wishing they can get in for some infiltration
Taylor Gang motherfucker, deal with no shape shift
Only motherfuckers come up in my playlist
I keep it way too real to fuck with your shit
This the right here, roll one up and face it

Getting high, weed up for e'ryone to know me

In the club, bottles, blowing weed by the O-Z

And you I'm getting cash cause I'm all about that paper

Give a fuck a hater

T-G-O-D, peep the from the floor seats
Here for my throne, put them in the nosebleeds
(T-G-O-D), married to the
Fornicating with the ballers and a prenup like the Kobes
(T-G-O-D), hoes
On the what, where, hows of a boss, see
Bitch I school sluts on the and the whos
And the guts and the and how the body of a Porsche be
Now it's bitches
Lights out when I'm my vicious
ratio
Giuseppe out in casio, rent on a fascio
(Oo-la-la-la) is the way we rock when we doing our thing
(Oo-la-la-la) is the first high that the Taylors bring
My circle,
compare like a ain't I care
Ain't I there, you hoes, I birth
None of you hoes have earned, none of you hoes learned
Vicariously living my shadows
Got throwing more shade than a clouded out meadow
Living in a land called Lala, no
Maserati sitting on all yellow
out interior like a cigarillo
Now these hoes wanna hang, them hanging like hello
(Ha ha ha ha ha) until my lifeless in the depth of the Earth
Forever stay a real bitch and fear God
When the Devil get to tempting me, I only God
And my struggles build me, so endear eyes
Lauryn we'll forever you, you'll forever fill hearts...
Hip Hop

Getting high, rolling weed up for to know me

In the club, popping bottles, blowing by the O-Z

And you I'm getting cash cause I'm all about that paper

a fuck about a hater

Paper, paper, paper, I'm so fucking
dope, getting ashes on the calculator
Big wads in my pockets, money barely
I'm so sincere in a Belly Benz
Hit the club, drinking Sapphire gin
Juicy J don't fuck ratchet hoes, only 10s

Getting high, rolling weed up for to know me

In the club, popping bottles, blowing by the O-Z

And you I'm getting cash cause I'm all about that paper