Chris Brown, Rich The Kid, Yella Beezy, Sage The Gemini — Outy When I Drive/Blamed
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Текст Chris Brown, Rich The Kid, Yella Beezy, Sage The Gemini — Outy When I Drive/Blamed
CashMoneyAP
Everything foreign, nigga
Ooh
Bougie, shit tell ’em back back (Back back)
Runnin’ around with the rat pack (Huh)
That ass too fat, tell her back back (What)
Ain’t doing no talkin, the choppa got kick back (Blat)
Ooh, ooh
She won’t be my boo (My boo)
I was broke, now I got bitches in my coupe (Huh)
Me and Breezy, 50 hoes, by the group (By the group)
That’s yo’ bitch, she told a lie, ain’t told the truth, ooh (Ain’t told the truth)
I get her gone
Fuck her once, she won’t pick up the phone (What?)
I send her home (Home)
Give me the dome, give me the dome
High-y, high-y, high
I’ma fly, I’ma flatline
Outy when I drive
Bring me up, bitch, on both sides
Broke niggas always minus, wearin’ designer
See me, I beat it out the line and it’ll fuck ya spine up
High-y, high-y, high
Yeah, baby, flatline
Outy when I drive, flatline
High-y, high-y, high
Yeah, baby, flatline
Outy when I drive
Bitch, on both sides
When I do the dash, bitch, I swear that they mouth wide
Hunnids, countin’ cash in a pair of them off-whites
You need to bring your ass over here
If your nigga wanna fight, bitch, come outside
I’m off this Hennessy, too many shots
Don’t give a fuck
Ain’t no excuses for bein’ belligerent, just give me the bottle
Stop thinkin’ about it, ’til I’m on the floor
Switchin’ lanes, caught in the paint, off the backboard
Ain’t no way I’ma change, pussy got me goin’
High-y, high-y, high
I’ma fly, I’ma flatline
Outy when I drive
Bring me up, bitch, on both sides
Broke niggas always minus, wearin’ designer
See me, I beat it out the line and it’ll fuck ya spine up
High-y, high-y, high
Yeah, baby, flatline
Outy when I drive, flatline
High-y, high-y, high
Yeah, baby, flatline
Outy when I drive
Bitch, on both sides
[Verse 3: Yella Beezy]
I say vroom, vroom
808s gon’ make your body shake
Look bitch boom, boom
And when I get you
I’ll knock that pussy to the moon, moon
If he trippin’, grab that Smith
And I’ma knock his brain loose
Do what you do
These hatin’ niggas got it bad
Nigga talkin’ tough into my lil’ condo, and shot his ass
And if you mention me, then you gon’ end up in a body bag
Lil’ mama, I ain’t tryna fuck you, you ain’t got a lot of ass
I need a lot of that, yeah-yeah
High-y, high-y, high
I’ma fly, I’ma flatline
Outy when I drive
Bring me up, bitch, on both sides
Broke niggas always minus, wearin’ designer
See me, I beat it out the line and it’ll fuck ya spine up
High-y, high-y, high
Yeah, baby, flatline
Outy when I drive, flatline
High-y, high-y, high
Yeah, baby, flatline
Outy when I drive
Bitch, on both sides
Part II: Blamed
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Don’t play me to the left, no
‘Fore I pull up with that thing on me
I’m shootin’, aimin’ for the neck
And ain’t nobody finna bang on me
Ayy, I just check my bank account, I’m goin’ dumb as fuck
I point her in the right direction, tell her, «Run it up»
I put her in the Louis line, nigga, one-to-ones
But we don’t fight
I take this .40 off my waist just like a tummy tuck
I don’t speak much unless it’s money, so
If they don’t know me personal, then I don’t take it personal
They love you when you wins high, let you know (Let you know)
But when your wins low, they treat you like a Urkel
I learn that family don’t always matter (Yeah, whoa)
I send these shots around your dome, now you silent (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah)
Ayy, I’m just tryna buy me a big place (Big place)
I’m just tryna buy me a lawyer, help me beat the case
I’m just tryna fuck you, let you lead the way (The way)
And if we can’t make it to the bed, do it on the way
Don’t play me to the left, no
‘Fore I pull up with that thing on me
I’m shootin’, aimin’ for the neck, oh
And ain’t nobody finna bang on me
I got your bitch, she coming over (Woo!)
She gon’ bring her friend too (Woo!)
They gon’ pop and bend it over (Woo!)
Like that pussy brand new
Get her an Uber when it’s over
Fuck that, just hop up in the coupe
What you gon’ do?
‘Cause you can’t really put the blame on us
If there’s a problem, I’ma pop up, I’ma shoot out the roof
You need to stop it ‘fore I make your mama really miss you
Ain’t throwin’ spirals, really big bullets and a couple missiles
I hit your bitch up that Friday and I told her to choose
She told me, «Yeah, we on for the nightcap»
I know your nigga won’t like that
Get his cap killed in his life jack’
That’s why I don’t take a day off
Hustle like every day is the Playoffs
Damn right, we fuckin’ winnin’
Don’t like me, fuck your feelings (Feelings)
Money up to the ceilin’ (Ceilin’)
Smoke weed, I’m up there with it (There with it)
Like murder, make a killin’
See murder for no limit
White people in my business
Black women give me kisses
With all these snitches, it ain’t safe no more (No more)
Niggas sayin’ names and they showin’ up to court (Court)
I’ma take a shot, have one Newport
Before I light this bitch up and shoot it off the backboard
You got me fucked up
Don’t play me to the left, no
‘Fore I pull up with that thing on me
I’m shootin’, aimin’ for the neck, oh
And ain’t nobody finna bang on me
I got your bitch, she coming over (Woo!)
She gon’ bring her friend too (Woo!)
They gon’ pop and bend it over (Woo!)
Like that pussy brand new
Get her an Uber when it’s over
Fuck that, just hop up in the coupe
What you gon’ do?
‘Cause you can’t really put the blame on us
(Ooh, huh, huh, huh)
I might slide in it (Slide in it)
I like bad bitches (Bad)
Bentley 350s (Skrrt)
I got three with me (Ooh)
It’s a blame game (Blame game)
Let my chains swang (Swang)
I don’t know her name (What?)
All these hoes the same (Yeah)
She want Chanel on her (Chanel)
Birkin bags, she was rackin’ sale on ’em (Ooh)
I got the nail on her
Fuckin’ friends and she think I’ma tell her (Ooh)
In my coupe, I got two
Niggas mad I got the juice
I’ma smash on your boo (Smash)
I got cash on me too
She won’t play me to the left
I’m a rich nigga to death (Death)
She gon’ pull up with the neck
Boss up for a check (Check)
Know he want her
She got red bottoms on her (On her)
If I fuck her two times, she a goner (Huh)
Don’t play me to the left, no
‘Fore I pull up with that thing on me
I’m shootin’, aimin’ for the neck, oh
And ain’t nobody finna bang on me
I got your bitch, she coming over
She gon’ bring her friend too
They gon’ pop and bend it over
Like that pussy brand new
Get her an Uber when it’s over
Fuck that, just hop up in the coupe
What you gon’ do?
‘Cause you can’t really put the blame on us
