Goldie

Album: LongLiveA$AP (2012)
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  • Uh, uh
    I said it must be 'cause a nigga got dough (uh)
    Extraordinary swag and a mouth full of gold (uh)
    Hoes at my shows they be stripping off they clothes (yeah)
    And them college girls write a nigga name on they toes (right)
    Niggas talk shit 'til they get lockjaw (uh)
    Chrome to ya dome 'til ya get glockjaw (uh)
    Party like a cowboy or a rockstar (uh)
    Everybody play the tough guy (yeah) 'til shit pop off (yeah)

    Let's take it to the basics, you in the midst of greatness
    My Martin was a Maison, rocked Margielas with no laces
    Cristal go by the cases, wait hold up that was racist
    I would prefer the Aces, ain't no different when you taste it
    A 40 ounce to chase it, that's just an understatement
    I'm early to the party but my 'Rari is the latest
    Somehow it seems girls in they late teens
    Remind me your favorite jeans 'cause they naked 'cause you famous
    Life's a mothafucka, ain't it? These other rappers anus
    So tell me what your name is, I'ma tell it to my stainless
    You aim it 'fore you bang it, let that banger leave you brainless
    It's just me, myself and I and mothafuckas that I came with
    Miscellaneous niggas wanna hate on me
    Until I tell 'em to they face they ain't no G
    Lowkey, niggas mad 'cause I'm smooth puffing Zig Zags
    Tell 'em quit the riff-raff, bitching with your bitch-ass

    I said it must be 'cause a nigga got dough (uh)
    Extraordinary swag and a mouth full of gold (uh)
    Hoes at my shows they be stripping off they clothes (yeah)
    And them college girls write a nigga name on they toes (right)
    Niggas talk shit 'til they get lockjaw (uh)
    Chrome to ya dome 'til ya get glockjaw (uh)
    Party like a cowboy or a rockstar (uh)
    Everybody play the tough guy (yeah) 'til shit pop off (yeah)

    Yes, I'm the shit, tell me do it stink?
    It feel good waking up to money in the bank
    Three model bitches, cocaine on the sink
    And I'm so 'bout it 'bout it, I might roll up in a tank
    'Cause my chain came from Cuba, got a lock up on the link
    And them red bottom loafers just to compliment the mink
    Eyes chink, rolling up that dank, blowing on that stank
    What you mean? Tell me what you drink, I'm on that kissing pink
    You could call me Billy Gates, got a crib in every state
    Man on the moon, got a condo out in space
    Open up your legs, tell me how it taste
    And them niggas talking shit so tell 'em, "Tell it to my face"
    Tell that bitch, hop up on my dick, rolled up on her quick
    In a six, told her suck a dick, motorboat her tits
    I'm the shit, niggas mad 'cause I'm smooth puffing Zig Zags
    Tell 'em quit the riff-raff bitching with your bitch-ass

    I said it must be 'cause a nigga got dough
    Extraordinary swag and a mouth full of gold
    Hoes at my shows they be stripping off they clothes
    And them college girls write a nigga name on they toes
    Niggas talk shit 'til they get lockjaw
    Chrome to ya dome 'til ya get Glockjaw
    Party like a cowboy or a rockstar
    Everybody play the tough guy 'til shit pop off

    (Uh, yeah)
    (Uh, right)
    (Uh, yeah)
    (Yeah, yeah)
    (Uh, yeah)
    (Uh, yeah)
    (Uh, yeah)
    Everybody play the tough guy 'til shit pop off
    (Right, right) Writer/s: Chauncey Hollis, Rakim Mayers
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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