Til We Die

I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch comin on
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you..
And if you think were gonna stop
Thats just absurd
My middle fingers in the sky
Screamin fuck a hater til the day a nigga die

Yea, I got em yellin Oh God, Lord
Presence fresh, your neck rise, sharp Tom Ford
Fuck G4s, I charter private Concords
And she through the sky like missiles when they dodge ball
Toast them bottles with the booze
Smell and stink like old money buried in the kings tomb
When you think we smell funny, certain niggas wanna watch em
When it comes to money Im a nose fragrance, watch the flower blossom
When it comes to bread, yall niggas know its me
I articulate beautiful like a poetry
Hoes bring me that paper just like they owing threes
Chip em a revenue, God bless my rosaries
Listen , thats why your witness and your highness
Were celebratin success and sippin on the finestExplain
Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us
When we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless
But thats for you to dodge us

I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch comin on
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you..
And if you think were gonna stop
Thats just absurd
My little fingers in the sky
Screamin fuck a hater til the day a nigga die

She see me stackin cheese in my saggy sheets
Silver and Sela, smokin lavender leaf
Yellow Jesus piece, I still feed the streets
Im getting score, that Ferrari seats
Riders at the top, get arrogant on em
Set a bottle off, you can ride if you wanna
My money mandatory, slippy what deposits look
Money green, Maserati with a body kit
Dead presidents, got my name on the blim
Fast in the residence based on a tip
Playin innocent, the state attorney want a grip
Ive got enough, get with puff, I could make a flip
Fuck the charge down for me to top the Forbes list
Im a fat boy, I but em on that poor shit
You see that money? Im touchin mine
Its Rosay, Trey Songz, Busta Rhymes
I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch comin on
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you..
And if you think were gonna stop
Thats just absurd
My little fingers in the sky
Screamin fuck a hater til the day a nigga die
Hand on my heart while giving thanks and continued bustin these bottles open
Passin the time, securin lanes, gurkin forgot smokin
Controllin every room when I enter there start toastin
Undecided on what to drive, think the garage is open
As we do the impossible
It seems successfully manifestin a thought and livin out the dream
Leave an unforgettable mark of mud
I be in it like adding a chapter to the Bible with my blood, listen
Every day is like a weekend
Like we never give a fuck, celebratin for no reason
A convoy full of trucks, aint no question, we all eatin
Then its silence when I talk like Im hearin the Lord speakin now
As they complain about my ways
Cuz Ill be grindin, never sleepin just be ballin on for days
Be fuckin every model, every weed in out the strays
And then Im bouncin that Bugatti slowly totin on the haze
Then we pass this shit to Trey

I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch comin on
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you..
And if you think were gonna stop
Thats just absurd
My little fingers in the sky
Screamin fuck a hater til the day a nigga die