Lil Pump – Next (feat. Rich The Kid)

[Intro: Lil Pump & Rich The Kid]
Everybody know I’m next
Hundred thousand on my neck
Know I’m sayin’? The flex way
I be runnin’ up a check
Lil Pump
I be fuckin’ on your ex
Everybody know I’m next
Know I’m sayin’? The money way
Ooh, Lil Pump! Lil Pump! Lil Pump!
I spent ten thousand on a Gucci belt

[Chorus: Lil Pump & Rich The Kid]
Everybody know I’m next, ooh (re)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh (what?)
Hundred thousand on my neck, ooh
I be runnin’ up a check, ooh (yeah)
I be fuckin’ on your ex, ooh (what)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh (huh)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
I might go fuck on your bitch, ooh (your bitch)
I might go fuck on your bitch, ooh (huh)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (what?)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (yeah)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh (what? what? what?)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh

[Verse 1: Lil Pump]
I be ridin’ in a ‘Rari, ooh
I be poppin’ hella molly, yeah
Thirty Brinks to the lobby
Five bitches on me, give me sloppy toppy, ooh
Everybody wanna be me, ooh
Ice water and some Fiji, yuh
Ice water and some kiwi, ooh
Lil Pump stay geekin’, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Pump whippin’ like a chef, ooh
Takin’ off in a jet, ooh
Everybody know I flex, ooh

[Chorus: Lil Pump & Rich The Kid]
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Hundred thousand on my neck, ooh
I be runnin’ up a check, ooh
I be fuckin’ on your ex, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh (huh)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh (what?)
I might go fuck on your bitch, ooh (huh)
I might go fuck on your bitch, ooh (ooh)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (yeah)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (what?)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh (yuh, yuh, yuh)
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh

[Verse 2: Rich The Kid]
Fuck that lil’ bitch and I tell her to pack it
Blow ten racks on the jacket
Pull out a Maybach, smash it (yeah)
You rappers ain’t got it or cap it (cap it)
You ride the wave like a jetski
I just cashed out on an AP (yuh)
Look at my neck, ooh
I took your bitch, she on the jet too (your bitch)
I trap in the Hills with no service (trap)
She wanna pop a lil’ Perky (what?)
Pussy too good, ooh
Bust in her mouth, fuck on your couch too
I’m tired of flexin’ (flex)
Saint Laurent, you work at Giuseppe’s
Syrup for breakfast (syrup)
I drink out the pint, baby (lean)
Put you in the trunk
Pocket’s a lump, she wanna fuck off the jump (woah)
No freezer, my wrist cool
Diamonds too sick, ooh (yeah)

[Chorus: Lil Pump]
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Hundred thousand on my neck, ooh
I be runnin’ up a check, ooh
I be fuckin’ on your ex, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
I might go fuck on your bitch, ooh
I might go fuck on your bitch, ooh
I might go bust on her lip, ooh
I might go bust on her lip, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m next, ooh

Next – Lil Pump lyrics

Lyrics Lil Pump – Next

Everybody know I’m next
Hundred thousand on my neck
Know I’m sayin’? The flex way
I be runnin’ up a check
Lil Pump
I be f*ckin’ on your ex
Everybody know I’m neeext
Know I’m sayin’? The money way
Ooh, Lil Pump! Lil Pump! Lil Pump!
I spent ten thousand on a Gucci belt.

Everybody know I’m next, ooh (re)
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh (what?)
Hundred thousand on my neck, ooh
I be runnin’ up a check, ooh (yeah)
I be f*ckin’ on your ex, ooh (what)
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh (huh)
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
I might go f*ck on your b*tch, ooh (your b*tch)
I might go f*ck on your b*tch, ooh (huh)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (what?)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (yeah)
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, oohhh.

I be ridin’ in a ‘Rari, ooh
I be poppin’ hella molly, yeah
Thirty Brinks to the lobby
Five b*tches on me, give me sloppy toppy, ooh
Everybody wanna be me, ooh
Ice water and some Fiji, yuh
Ice water and some kiwi, ooh
Lil Pump stay geekin’, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Pump whippin’ like a chef, ooh
Takin’ off in a jet, ooh
Everybody know I flex, ooh.

Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Hundred thousand on my neck, ooh
I be runnin’ up a check, ooh
I be f*ckin’ on your ex, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh (huh)
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh (what?)
I might go f*ck on your b*tch, ooh (huh)
I might go f*ck on your b*tch, ooh (ooh)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (yeah)
I might go bust on her lip, ooh (what?)
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh (yuh, yuh, yuh)
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh.

f*ck that lil’ b*tch and I tell her to pack it
Blow ten racks on the jacket
Pull out a Maybach, smash it (yeah)
You rappers ain’t got it or cap it (cap it)
You ride the wave like a jetski
I just cashed out on an AP (yuh)
Look at my neck, ooh
I took your b*tch, she on the jet too (your b*tch)
I trap in the Hills with no service (trap)
She wanna pop a lil’ Perky (what?)
P***y too good versuri-lyrics.info
Bust in her mouth, f*ck on your couch too
I’m tired of flexin’ (flex)
Saint Laurent, you work at Giuseppe’s
Serve for breakfast (serve)
I drink out the pint, baby (lean)
Put you in the trunk
Pocket’s a lump, she wanna f*ck off the jump (woah)
No freezer, my wrist cool
Diamonds too sick, ooh (yeah).

Everybody know I’m next, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Hundred thousand on my neck, ooh
I be runnin’ up a check, ooh
I be f*ckin’ on your ex, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
I might go f*ck on your b*tch, ooh
I might go f*ck on your b*tch, ooh
I might go bust on her lip, ooh
I might go bust on her lip, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, ooh
Everybody know I’m neeext, oohhh.
Lil Pump lyrics
Video Lil Pump

GUCCI MANE – Tone It Down lyrics

It’s Gucci
Droptop
Right now
Wizop, wop
Hitmaka! go

Wop, wop, wop, wop
VVS the wrist (Wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch (bitch)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Yeah, yeah, VVS the wrist (wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch

Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

Huh, pull up, fros up, with the door up
Chopper in the club, I don’t care who show up
Watch lookin’ like a glow up, when I throw up
East Side pour the Crys’ wrote why I grow up
Hold up, lil homie tone it down
‘Cause the jewelry that you rockin’ is for kids, I’m a grown up
Sat courtside right next to the owner
Lookin’ so good, make his wife pick her phone up
Big gold boulders, in my Rollie
Look like real flesh, make you wanna pick a stone up
If everybody got a watch like that
Then why would I want that watch? I’m a loaner
[?]
Got that car ‘fore I got it, now I really don’t wanna
You never seen a nigga glow up like this
Not a nigga that was trappin’ on a corner

Wop, wop, wop, wop
VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch (might steal your bitch)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Yeah, yeah, VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch

Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

Go, your man CB, jewelery 3D
Tryna be like me, ain’t easy
Niggas hate me, mamas wanna date me
‘Cause I got all these VVS pieces
In that Great thing
2018 Rolls Royce, chopper for no reason (huh)
Watered all my time, please water like a Fiji
Parked in front of the St Regis
I just wanna meet Meek
Ballin’ like an athlete, but I ball all four seasons
Diamonds, thats just like Breazin
Take it easy, Breezy go easy
Bitch goes in all my pieces
Gucci Mane stunt like Meechy
Jewelery so gold, I’m sneezin’
Pull up South Beach, no season

Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

Yeah, four, four, drippin’
I be on a hunnids rolls
Fight, weed, hit it
Have a nigga seeing ghost
Tell me what to do, ‘cause I’m tryna get to know you
Champagne, takin’ shots
Won’t have a hangover

Wop, wop, wop, wop
VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch (might steal your bitch)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Yeah, yeah, VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch

Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

Tone that shit down
Tone that shit down
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga ball like thIs
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

Gucci Mane – Tone It Down (feat. Chris Brown)

[Intro]
It’s Gucci
Droptop
Right now
Wizop, Huh, wop
Hitmaka! go

[Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown]
Wop, wop, wop, wop
VVS the wrist (Wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch (bitch)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Yeah, yeah, VVS the wrist (wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Huh, pull up, fros up, with the door up
Chopper in the club, I don’t care who show up
Watch lookin’ like a glow up, when I throw up
East Side pour the Crys’ wrote why I grow up
Hold up, lil homie tone it down
‘Cause the jewelry that you rockin’ is for kids, I’m a grown up
Sat courtside right next to the owner
Lookin’ so good, make his wife pick her phone up
Big gold boulders, in my Rollie
Look like real flesh, make you wanna pick a stone up
If everybody got a watch like that
Then why would I want that watch? I’m a loaner
[?]
Got that car ‘fore I got it, now I really don’t wanna
You never seen a nigga glow up like this
Not a nigga that was trappin’ on a corner

[Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown]
Wop, wop, wop, wop
VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch (might steal your bitch)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Yeah, yeah, VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

[Verse 2: Gucci Mane]
Go, your man CB, jewelery 3D
Tryna be like me, ain’t easy
Niggas hate me, mamas wanna date me
‘Cause I got all these VVS pieces
In that Great thing
2018 Rolls Royce, chopper for no reason (huh)
Watered all my time, please water like a Fiji
Parked in front of the St Regis
I just wanna meet Meek
Ballin’ like an athlete, but I ball all four seasons
Diamonds, thats just like Breazin
Take it easy, Breezy go easy
Bitch goes in all my pieces
Gucci Mane stunt like Meechy
Jewelery so gold, I’m sneezin’
Pull up South Beach, no season

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

[Verse 3: Chris Brown]
Yeah, four, four, drippin’
I be on a hunnids rolls
Fight, weed, hit it
Have a nigga seeing ghost
Tell me what to do, ‘cause I’m tryna get to know you
Champagne, takin’ shots
Won’t have a hangover

[Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown]
Wop, wop, wop, wop
VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch (might steal your bitch)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Yeah, yeah, VVS the wrist (VVS the wrist)
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Might steal your bitch

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down (oh why)
Tell me who gon’ ball like this
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga, ball like this
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

[Outro: Chris Brown]
Tone that shit down
Tone that shit down
Tone that shit down
Weak nigga ball like thIs
Tone that shit down
Tell me who gon’ ball like this

Travi$ Scott – Birds In The Trap

[Intro: NAV]
That coca

[Hook: NAV]
I just poured a 8 in a liter
Throw some Jolly Ranchers in, make it sweeter
Versace my clothes, I’m with a white hoe
And she snorting three lines like Adidas
Got a black girl rolling off Molly
Got a white bitch snorting up snow
Say she want real niggas in the party
Parents gon’ leave the keys to the condo
Bitch, close the door, there’s shit on your nose (that coca)
She said she want more
She said she want more
So I’mma get more
Yeah, I’mma get more
Bitch, close the door, there’s shit on your nose
She said she want more
She said she want more
So I’mma get more
Yeah, I’mma get more

[Verse 1: NAV]
I just poured a 8 in a liter
Got a white bitch sniffin’ on Bieber
Are you sure you want to party with the demons?
Bitch looking for a phone, I ain’t seen it
Told Frost bring the water, no Fiji
Free Stix, I’m poured up and I’m leanin’
I got a couple pussy niggas in their feelings
‘Cause their main bitch wanna come see me
She said she want more
Your girl is a hoe, you need to let go
She fucked all my bros, she’s snorting the snow (that coca)
Now she’s touching her toes
She got Anna Nicole all in her nose
If they kick down the door, we gon’ get locked for sure
She said she want more
Fuck it, I’mma get more (I’mma get more)

[Verse 2: Travis Scott]
Nightmares, high life, sleepy, night-night (yah)
Flashes, spotlight, pull up, nice guy (yah, yah)
Help me, pelase
Beast, beast it (yah)
Bite me, ride me (yah)
Strike me, indict me (yah, yah)
Sniper, swiper, rapper, trapper (ooh, yah)
I’m—lit—, light-—yah, -ning, bitch— (yah)
White—bitch, bitch—, she—thick bitch
Pulled out of the hood Toyota
Drove back to the hood Lambo (ooh)
Crushed Xans, crushed Xans in my soda
Riding around the city with my eyes closed (yah, yah)
Crazy Girls got it popping, AOD got it popping (yah, yah)
Tryna text my accountant
Ain’t no service in the mountains (straight up)
Won’t you come to the bottom?
Know you heard a lot about ’em (yah)
Heard they take that, then they change like a mood ring (yah, yah)
I watched ’em take that, then they change like a mood ring
Pulled out of the hood Toyota
Drove back to the hood Lambo (ooh)
Crushed Xans, crushed Xans in my soda
Riding around the city with my eyes closed (ooh)

[Hook: NAV & Travis Scott]
I just poured a 8 in a liter
Throw some Jolly Ranchers in, make it sweeter
Versace my clothes, I’m with a white hoe
And she snorting three lines like Adidas
Got a black girl rolling off Molly
Got a white bitch snorting up snow
Say she want real niggas in the party
Parents gon’ leave the keys to the condo
Bitch, close the door, there’s shit on your nose (ooh, that coca)
She said she want more
She said she want more (ooh)
So I’mma get more (ooh)
Yeah, I’mma get more (ooh)
Bitch close the door, there’s shit on your nose (ooh)
She said she want more (ooh)
She said she want more (ooh)
So I’mma get more
Yeah, I’mma get more (ooh)

[Outro: Travis Scott]
Ooh-ah

Lil Pump – Boss

[Hook]
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Walk in the trap like a boss, ooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Walk in the trap like a boss, oooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, ooh

[Verse]
Walk in the trap, Ric Flair, ooh
Fuck a nigga bitch don’t care, damn
Throwin’ up racks in the air, damn
Told that bitch Lil Pump yeah, ooh
Damn, I just broke my wrist
100 on my wrist, can’t tell me shit
Pop 4 xans then I fucked a nigga’s bitch
Never wearin’ slippers, I always flippin’ bricks
Aye, yeah I came up with the sauce damn
Damn, yeah I sold crack in the halls, damn
Lil Pump, bands on top
Gave my mom 2 Glocks
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh

[Hook]
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Bitch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah

Boss – Lil Pump lyrics

Lyrics Lil Pump – Boss

Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeahhh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Walk in the trap like a boss, ooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Walk in the trap like a boss, oooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, oohhh.

Walk in the trap, Ric Flair, ooh
f*ck a nigga b*tch don’t care, damn
Throwin’ up racks in the air, damn
Told that b*tch Lil Pump yeah, ooh
Damn, I just broke my wrist
100 on my wrist, can’t tell me s**t
Pop 4 xans then I f*cked a nigga’s b*tch
Never wearin’ slippers, I always flippin’ bricks
Aye, yeah I came up with the sauce damn
Damn, yeah I sold crack in the halls, damn
Lil Pump, bands on top
Gave my mom 2 Glocks
Versuri-lyrics.info
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh.

Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeahhh.
Lil Pump lyrics
Video Lil Pump

Rick Ross – Dead Presidents (feat. Future, Jeezy & Yo Gotti) (Rather You Than Me Album)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Rather You Than Me
If you’ve been fucking with me from Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
(M-M-Maybach Music) Ain’t nun’ changed, nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser
Maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America, fuck it
(Beat Billionaire)

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m pullin’ off the lot, I bought it cash (woah)
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past (woah)
Her ass be lookin’ good inside the leggings (woah)
But I notice that she missin’ all her edges (woah)
I run the game just by runnin’ with the felons (woah)
Poor attitude, and got rich nigga calisthenics (woah)
Walkin’ in the courtroom, sippin’ on a beverage (woo)
I know the judge, so I got a lot of leverage (woo)
Pissin’ on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smokin’ on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter (woah)
Still in a box, got him rappin’ acapella (woah)
Can’t trust no people fuckin’ with the reverend (woah)
I got a chopper, boy, don’t make me be the devil (woah)
He knockin’ on the door and know the password (woo)
Gave me his blessings, boy, I’m hotter than the last verse (woo)

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[Verse 2: Future]
I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got Bowlingreen dollars on my chopper
Bussin’ down a hundred bales in the bathtub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
Get to the clutchin’ on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the, stoop, hangin’ with my Haitians
The murder’s on the, news, all front pages
Young niggas catchin’ bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stackin’ Ben Franks and bought some Fiji
They rob you two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fuckin’ niggas hoes ’cause they easy
I’m in here fuckin’ niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck me like she love me, like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded out with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fuckin’ day
I John Travolta when I flaunt that Patek face

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[Verse 3: Jeezy]
Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas was when I was ashy, nigga?
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy, nigga
Build a empire, yeah, that’s what my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah, that’s what my state of mind
Keep the blocks over there, we call it Legoland
Meanwhile, the kids smokin’ like it’s Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the troops
Sixteen when I bought my first Rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never ride dirties in the extra car

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

Souleye – Ease That lyrics

Artist: Souleye Title: Ease That Hook Ease that lean back roll me up that
Weed sack / Calling out my ladies on the front and the back / Lean back
Ease that roll me up that weed sack / We we’ve them tracks that ride
Like Cadillac’s / Verse 1 I’ve been all around the world / And easy
To see that most people that I meet / Love blazing on them trees / I’ll
Find it in Fiji where no weed be / Or in Mendo where it’s in every home /
Grown out doors organic is my favorite type / But then again I like that
Indoor bud at night / Smoking sativa in the middle of the afternoon / Get
High motivate party on the move / Even my mom pack that bong / I’ve
Watched my dad smoke all day long / From the rich and the famous / To the
Poor and broke / They all love that dope / Government don’t know I know
My fourth amendment / Can’t search without a warrant / Hook Ease that
Lean back roll me up that weed sack / Calling out my ladies on the front
And the back / Lean back ease that roll me up that weed sack / Wewe’ve
Them tracks that ride like Cadillac’s / Verse 2 Only the best when I’m
Smoking the Sess /
Hawaiian mist I’m on a mystical trip / Puffing an ounce of Kush on the
Couch / Purple urkle got me seeing double now / I’m going to Canada
Man, Japan or Amsterdam / No matter where I’m at I’m going to smoke a
Gram / Four-way endo sipping on that swiss miss / With Mr. Nice here’s
The pipe now hit this / Elevate let’s create everyone together now /
Let’s celebrate / take a break though / If you don’t puff the drow / I
Know there’s those / That don’t smoke so pass it to the left / You
Know how it goes / The rotation is ground breaking /

RICK ROSS – Dead Presidents lyrics

Rather you than me
If you’ve been fucking with me since Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
M-m-maybach Music
Ain’t nun’ changed nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser, maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America
Fuck it
Beat Billionaire

I’m pulling off the lot, I bought the cash
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past
Her ass be looking good inside the leggings
But I know that she’s missing all the edges
I run the game just by running with the felons
Pour out the Judy, got rich nigga calisthenics
Walking in the court room, sipping on the beverage
I know the judge so I got a lot of leverage
Pissing on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box, got her rapping acapella
Can’t trust no people fucking with the presser
I got a chopper, but don’t make me be the devil
He knocking on the door and all the Baswares
Gave me addresses where I’m hiding in the last verse

Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got molly green dollars on my transport
Bussing down a hundred bales in the bath tub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
This the culture on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the [??] stupid, hanging with my Haitians
Murder’s on the news, all front pages
Gunning and catching bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stacking Ben Franklins posted in Fiji
They rocking two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fucking niggas hoes cus they easy
I’m in here fucking niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck like she love like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded all with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fucking day
I John Travolta when I flood that Patek face

Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas woes, when I was ashing nigga
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy nigga
Build a empire, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Keep the block sober there, we call it Lego land
Meanwhile the kids smoking like its Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the truths
Sixteen when I bought my first rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never riding dirty in the extra car

Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

Rick Ross – Dead Presidents (feat. Future, Jeezy & Yo Gotti)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Rather you than me
If you’ve been fucking with me since Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
M-m-maybach Music
Ain’t nun’ changed nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser, maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America
Fuck it
Beat Billionaire

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m pulling off the lot, I bought the cash
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past
Her ass be looking good inside the leggings
But I know that she’s missing all the edges
I run the game just by running with the felons
Pour out the Judy, got rich nigga calisthenics
Walking in the court room, sipping on the beverage
I know the judge so I got a lot of leverage
Pissing on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box, got her rapping acapella
Can’t trust no people fucking with the presser
I got a chopper, but don’t make me be the devil
He knocking on the door and all the Baswares
Gave me addresses where I’m hiding in the last verse

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

[Verse 2: Future]
I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got molly green dollars on my transport
Bussing down a hundred bales in the bath tub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
This the culture on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the [??] stupid, hanging with my Haitians
Murder’s on the news, all front pages
Gunning and catching bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stacking Ben Franklins posted in Fiji
They rocking two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fucking niggas hoes cus they easy
I’m in here fucking niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck like she love like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded all with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fucking day
I [??] flood that Patek face

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

[Verse 3: Jeezy]
Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas woes, when I was ashing nigga
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy nigga
Build a empire, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Keep the block sober there, we call it Lego land
Meanwhile the kids smoking like its Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the truths
Sixteen when I bought my first rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never riding dirty in the extra car

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

Pouya & Fat Nick – Middle Of The Mall (Drop Out Of School Album)

[Hook: Fat Nick]
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick

[Verse 1: Pouya]
She think she dancin’ on my dick, but that’s my Glock
Take my wallet out my ass and run around and watch ’em flock
To the kid with the tattoo and a flat toot 5’5
And he mad too with a bad attitude
All my bank payments overdue, I’m screwed
Fuck it, I’m buzzin’ out the fuckin’ roof
Can you please go stream me or bootleg my latest CD?
Help me get my bands up, help me get a Benz truck
I’m sick of this Honda, no A/C, turned to a sauna
Tell me how the fuck I just sold out The Fonda

[Hook: Fat Nick]
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick

[Verse 2: Fat Nick]
Fuck, I crack the seal, drink it all, I can’t get up
These drugs, they got my vision fucked
I’m skirting out these Beamer trucks
30 milligrams of oxy, bitch I’m fuckin’ stuck
She suck my dick and then complain I’m too fucked up to nut
I got big bankrolls, Giuseppe prints on floors
I got percs and weed and lean behind my trap door
Curved a hundred hoes, ain’t got time for those
Pussy boy come over here, this fuckin’ blinkie blow

[Hook: Fat Nick]
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick

Gunna & Offset – Beat Da Case

[Hook: Offset]
I beat the case, all this cash that I make
Pull up in Wraiths, had to chop off the [?]
Pull up in them horses, two million endorsements
Tryna get on some Forbes shit
Wave the flag it’s a forfeit
Money come ’round like a orbit
Evaporation, I absorb it
Lambo green it’s a tortoise
Eat the molly ’til I’m nauseous
Surround myself with the bosses
Cause they done had it and they lost it
These diamonds hittin’ on me [?]
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me

[Verse 1: Offset]
My diamonds green, not from Boston
You talking mean so I often
You was a lawyer so you lost me
Deliver my diamonds I ordered these
I kick the bitch out, she recorded me
I double back cause she a [?]
You niggas is soft like velour [?]
Stack it, stack it, stack it up
A whole ‘nother bracket, I leveled up
All of the gang, got bezeled up
Stay in your lane you don’t make enough
Parked the Benz on the side
My ex-bitch got 5
Frog eyes, mob ties
She choosing on me, all live
All [?] black pride
Lambo doors open wide
Sipping Actavis, a 9
Cocaine still alive

[Hook: Offset]
I beat the case, all this cash that I make
Pull up in Wraiths, had to chop off the [?]
Pull up in them horses, two million endorsements
Tryna get on some Forbes shit
Wave the flag it’s a forfeit
Money come ’round like a orbit
Evaporation, I absorb it
Lambo green it’s a tortoise
Eat the molly ’til I’m nauseous
Surround myself with the bosses
Cause they done had it and they lost it
These diamonds hittin’ on me [?]
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me

[Verse 2: Gunna]
I fucked the bitch she caused a collar
I fix my chain, I pop my collar
I take out flights out to the pilot
I walk in the bank and deposit
I came out from Fiji from overseas
I’m fucking that bitch from the Philipines
Don’t try to look you can’t ordered these
I put some nut on her double d’s
My short got a snake by double G
I see it, I buy if I want it
Got VVS [?]
[?] loner
I just put a AK on my shoulder
She got a new spot for the soldiers
[?] that new Bentley truck [?] over
I’ma thumb through the check ’til it’s over
The [?] can’t see a E
Still can pull up and cop a P
The police ain’t shit they can’t stop a G
Dropped a 100 k when they indicted me

[Hook: Offset]
I beat the case, all this cash that I make
Pull up in Wraiths, had to chop off the [?]
Pull up in them horses, two million endorsements
Tryna get on some Forbes shit
Wave the flag it’s a forfeit
Money come ’round like a orbit
Evaporation, I absorb it
Lambo green it’s a tortoise
Eat the molly ’til I’m nauseous
Surround myself with the bosses
Cause they done had it and they lost it
These diamonds hittin’ on me [?]
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me