WISH (ft. Kiddo Marv)

WISH
He's heating up
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 ni*** in designer
That's gon' be the reason why she let you get behind her
You might be the ni*** 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 ni***
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 ni*** in designer
That's gon' be the reason why she let you get behind her
You might be the ni*** 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 pu***, 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 pu*** ni*** up just like a surgeon
I'ma need a Perky 'cause a young ni*** 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 ni*** 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 ni*** in designer
That's gon' be the reason why she let you get behind her
You might be the ni*** that's gon' probably wine and dine her
I'ma take her home only usin' one-liners