Holy Moly

Album: Youth (2017)
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  • Nah, come on T, man
    Not even chatting to these bruddas, man
    They're boys, man, baby boys
    Still got Oysters and that
    Not even oyster perpetuals
    Time's different on their wrists

    Oh my god, look at my Roley
    Look at my squad, like holy moly
    Oh my god, look at my Roley
    Look at my squad

    Yeah, fuck it, I'm a selfish prick
    Stacking I go getting rich
    Rocking YSL and shit
    You in the ghetto getting nicked
    Champagne glasses in the whip
    Moses told me that it's lit
    I've got makeup on my dick
    Holy cow, holy shit
    Wore no collars when we met
    Make up stories in their heads
    When this morning, made some eggs
    For your bae in my bed
    I have things but not success
    I got steaks and overheads
    Closed mouths don't get fed
    Boy, you tired, go to bed
    I'm alive and I'm a ledge
    You're alive, so why you dead?
    Imhotep in the flesh
    Boujee bastard in the flesh
    Niggas say it with their chest
    I just say it, then it's pressed
    'Raris in the SLS
    Parties in the SLS

    Oh my god, look at my Roley
    Look at my squad, like holy moly
    Oh my god, look at my Roley
    Look at my squad

    I'm-I'm-I'm-I'm a fucking nervous wreck
    God, I hate these sycophants
    Everything that's in my head
    Sound like Kanye when he raps
    I don't do this for my 'Gram
    I don't do this for no bants
    Why you tweeting me this shit?
    You ain't fucking relevant
    Someone tell 'em that I'm woke
    Someone tell 'em that he's broke
    Someone tell 'em that the boy done seen a mill at 24
    In Australia for a show
    You in Shoreditch doing coke
    I got a mac by five guys, anyone can get this smoke
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
    Kings all in my lineage
    No trace, no witness
    Pray to God for forgiveness
    Lambo all tinted
    The kids all know the plate
    Chicks go all the way
    It's one phone call away

    Oh my god, look at my Roley
    Look at my squad, like holy moly
    Oh my god, look at my Roley
    Look at my squad

    I'm a boss
    In a Porsche
    It's very posh
    Too much sauce
    Too much sauce
    And my house is like my exes
    Too much sauce
    My Lamborghini
    It look like Jaws
    That's not a Roley
    It's Michael Kors
    Too much sauce
    You best run back to your older boy
    I know young Gs is gon' FaceTime if they wil' out like Soulja Boy
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind


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