CORRECT LYRICS

Lyrics : Seven Figure Habits

Ayo Lil Mexico, pa** the gas

They want the old Fat Nick, back on bullsh*t
Popped a lot of percs now I pop a lot of Glocks
If you see a bad b*t*h, I f**ked her and all her friends
I spent my money on some guns, got some diamonds and some drip
This a seven figure habit, arms i can't get a casket
I been rich for way too long, these is facts, I don't be braggin'
See that Porsche roof drop, 5.56 pop
Every IG model want my d**k but they get cropped
In the club twenty bottles of that Hen' I pop 'em off
In the streets, thirty clip, who or where, we let 'em off
This a big body, we spin on anybody
And we ain't movin' half bricks, wе talkin' big money
The Hellcat makе a lot of noise, sound like a Glock shot
Your man, he talk a lot of sh*t but he a broke f**k
Sendin' opps to the grave by the dump truck
If you the last man standin' have the pole tucked
It's a blitz when I pull up, ZZ Corvette when I pull off
If that b*t*h ain't suckin' d**k I tell that hoe to pause and skrrt off
You broke, don't want no issues
My pistol come with some tissues
These perkies don't make me miss you
You thuggin' so keep it with you
Remix Sprite, yeah, these bullets might, yeah
These diamonds bright, yeah, keep duckin' it's on sight, yeah
Road runnin' demon, chop a pack, ain't never catch me lackin'
Ain't need no scammin' just to get my bands up, what I'm stackin'
Baby Bone put 24's on that Vogue
You b*t*hes still whippin' Volvos
Fanboys take photos
Hoes take they clothes off and offer me b******s for nothin'
You expect me not to accept?
How you get me naked and then you come for my neck?
Every move I make is calculated, all for the set
As the hate grows, as do the bankrolls
So we keep everything from MAC-10s to flamethrowers
Too deep in the HV yellin' "why the f**k you hate me?"
I just wanna make my money and music and live safely
So I keep it off safety
Know my enemies wanna take me
Six feet underneath the ground but it don't f**kin' phase me
Yeah I walk a tightrope knowin' one day I will fall off
But until then, keep the gloves on
Might hit a f**kboy with a crowbar
Then run away like I was Olaf
I peeled off in a minivan
I'm feelin' like I'm Jackie Chan
I do my stunts, I stack my bands
I split it up with friends and fam
I thank the Lord for all my fans
I pray I'm never broke again
I've been through hell and back again
I'll never let the devil in my soul
A hundred bands for the Benz, runnin' over picket fences
Potholes and bullet holes, put f**kboys in trenches
I got goals I gotta reach before I'm 37
B*t*h it's Kevin, motherf**ker
Give a f**k about a reverend, only prayin' to myself, yuh