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letra de standing on business - babyface ray & lucki

[intro: lucki]
i don’t wanna talk, play geek, half a ticket felt like ten g’s
millionaire still in the spot, rollin’ up, still love lean
i don’t call a broke n-gga opp, i don’t give a rookie ho a thing
lemon drop smell like ‘tris
i don’t wanna talk, play geek, half a ticket felt like ten g’s
millionaire still in the spot, rollin’ up, still love lean
i don’t call a broke n-gga opp, i don’t give a rookie ho a thing
lemon drop smell like ‘tris, hope she know i don’t wanna–

[pre-chorus: babyface ray]
i pull up foreign to your block (i pull up foreign to your block)
n-gga, i pull up foreign to your block, where you rollin’ at?
i got trap stars, millionaires in my rolodex (i got trap stars)
had to f-ck up a couple million to get my focus back
my n-ggas raw, they be hittin’ with no shoulder pads
all i really want is cash, better let her hold the stash
cut her if she blow the bag, truth be told, “i want her friend”

[chorus: babyface ray]
n-ggas be hoes, front like they k!llers
claimin’ that work, act like they did it
f-ck all that playin’, handle the business
sittin’ in a coupe from standin’ on business
f-ck all that playin’, handle the business
sittin’ in a coupe from standin’ on business
f-ck all that playin’, handle the business
sittin’ in a coupe from standin’ on business
f-ck all that playin’, handle the business
sittin’ in a coupe from standin’ on business
f-ck all that playin’, handle the business
sittin’ in a coupe from standin’ on–
[verse 2: babyface ray]
as long as they print it, you know i’ma—, yeah (as long as they print it, you know i’ma get it)
she f-ck with your baby, i’m rich and i’m gifted (she f-ck with your baby, i’m rich and i’m)
get fly every day ’cause they might want a picture (get fly every day ’cause they might want a picture)
get high every day ’cause this life get wicked, for real (get high every day ’cause this life get wicked)
cold war, color money, get you some, n-gga scared to get or somethin’ (for real)
foreign cars, fast sh-t, pullin’ up, can’t even get a b-tch to f-ck
rich n-ggas trophies, i’m lift ’em up, every day is a diferrent one (every day)
n-ggas ain’t mob, but i don’t give a f-ck, you know it’s on if you mention us
left wrist, retirement, sixty plus, drac’ in the back, f&n in the front
too much back end, i’m dealin’ with drugs you wouldn’t understand
n-ggas be hatin’, they once was a fan, up out our b-tch when that lil’ sh-t ain’t in
crispy blue hundreds like i’m doin’ scams, i’m doin’ well, twistin’ up grams
i’m doin’ well, rookie for vans, i got some sh-t to do, send an advance
turn up the brand, i’m biddin’ on land, the b-mod shotgun, it’s sittin’ on land
dealin’ with pride, can’t get a job, only one with it, it’s hard to hide
only bad b-tches might start a fire, cut off them n-ggas, they starvin’ now
b-tch, i’m the wave, no bigger than me, i’ma take care of you, keep it discreet
i ripped the doors off the jeep, money on my mind, on repeat
la familia, this is not a game, she just took a picture in my chain
drifting off, i’ve been losin’ touch, feelin’ like i’m pinky and the brain
every day, i’m tryna rule the world, if i feel, still think the same
twelve years, still drink the same, club indie, still made it rain
pay a tip, i’ll make a leave (make a leave)
shorty, say the p-ssy all for me, tell her, “sell the p-ssy, not a dream”
face, touchdown h-town, take a thick b-tch to galleria
send my truck outta bay now, i can flood the city like katrina
tell me where you at and where you need ’em, amazon, the box is at your door
p-ssy n-gga, better not move, you know face mob at your throat
pockets full of money, full of smoke
chanelly sandals walkin’ through the sand, goyard printed on her tote
i just nodded off on the beach, i’m in cabo on a boat
wanna see you with your plate broke, gotta k!ll the n-ggas playin’ both
at first, i was green, but now i know, in the front and out the backdoor
paranoid, i’m runnin’ from the car, had the red lights but still go
[pre-chorus: babyface ray]
i pull up foreign to your block, where you rollin’ at? (i pull up foreign to your block)
i got trap stars, millionaires in my rolodex (i got trap stars)
had to f-ck up a couple million to get my focus back
my n-ggas raw, they be hittin’ with no shoulder pads
all i really want is cash, better let her hold the stash
cut her if she blow the bag, truth be told, “i want her friend”

- babyface ray lucki

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