WISH

Oh damn Dreads to the top, gold in my mouth, woaday Hoes by the flock, no, let me stop, woaday And I keep a Glock, nah, it's a Glock .40 Hands on a knot, hands on your bop, woaday She gon' bust it open for a nigga in designer That's gon' be the reason why she let you get behind her You might be the nigga that's gon' probably wine and dine her I'ma take her home only usin' one-liners Pull up in an navigator truck, Excursion Bad bitch on the side of me, half Persian I don't got a car, but I got car service So many chains, make a, uh, feel nervous Wait, I meant to say my chick from Nicaragua Put her on the team 'cause we both makin' dollars Hit her with the stroke, get her wet like aqua If she was a bop, I would hit, then I'll drop her Hang with the bros 'cause you know blood thicker I miss my vros, so we pour more liquor And you don't want smoke, you don't want no Swisher 'Cause you don't want war with a South Florida nigga Miami-Dade on my motherfuckin' back I'm Polo'd down to the socks to the nutsack It's R.I.P. X and R.I.P. Tree I'ma do it for my dawg, this for all of my G's Dreads to the top, gold in my mouth, woaday Hoes by the flock, no, let me stop, woaday And I keep a Glock, nah, it's a Glock .40 Hands on a knot, hands on your back, woaday She gon' bust it open for a nigga in designer That's gon' be the reason why she let you get behind her You might be the nigga that's gon' probably wine and dine her I'ma take her home only usin' one-liners Bossed up, came a long way from bein' a manager Glocks up with the sticks and the clips lookin' like banana-na Never pay for pussy, these bitches ain't gettin' nuh-uh My name alone gon' make me press on your ho like a button In my city ridin' vert to Uzi, Lil Uzi Vert Every week another funeral, only time we go to church Runnin' all these rappers down a check, they wanna splurge it Step up in the scene, so fresh, so clean, like a detergent Quick to cut a pussy nigga up just like a surgeon I'ma need a Perky 'cause a young nigga be hurtin' Slidin' like a Taliban with a turban Pull up all black in a suburban 'Cause he ain't die, so we gotta slide back my grill Pay my young nigga to get you whacked for five figures They gon' rip him, flip him, cut his ass up Put him in a box, and ship him, yup Dreads to the top, gold in my mouth, woaday Hoes by the flock, no, let me stop, woaday And I keep a Glock, nah, it's a Glock .40 Hands on a knot, hands on your back, woaday She gon' bust it open for a nigga in designer That's gon' be the reason why she let you get behind her You might be the nigga that's gon' probably wine and dine her I'ma take her home only usin' one-liners