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letra de opulence - le$

i’m about this goldie, all the bad b-tches know me
they pay me like they owe me, i’m looking at my rollie
and it just show me it’s ’bout that time for me
to give a little gaming, get back on my grind
this money stay on my mind ’cause they stay on my line
they keep calling, i keep balling, all my b-tches is down
got ’em waiting in line, them square b-tches is crying
’cause i don’t even look their way, they can’t get no more time
i’m a pimp in my own, f-cking rhyme, a pimp in my own, f-cking rhyme
yes, i’m on a hunt for the paper, i can’t see you broke haters
i’mma keep saying ‘see you later’ with them tags, that’s paper
in my whip, new b-tch on my side when i drive
talking ’bout how to get this money before the sunrise
i used to sell bricks, now i’m selling hoes
same thing, different game, it’s like sell and go
my b-tches got their comeback they make them tricks, come run back
and drop by some more stacks
no whip, i sit back and stack chips, feel like i’m the living mac
fine boss, goldie with a paper hat

three o5 small black with the numbers to match
in the middle of everything, you ain’t f-cking with that
i ain’t gotta drive fast, boy, i let them hoes see me
and most them fools hating is the ones that wanna be me
lamborghini on my mind so i’m turning up that grind
better go and get them ray bans, b-tch, how ’bout the shine?
no recline, getting head from a broad that used to diss me
but the unread text hoes talking ’bout they miss me
flatting on a couple million while them suckers still sleep
guess that’s why we counting money and them fools count sheep
do it like we wanna do it, only bosses in my clique
got that isle, brothers playing while i’m flossing in my sh-t
i be coughing on that sh-t but i’m rolling up some more
and this potion that i pour will probably have me moving slow
but i’m quick to the mula, i’m teaching, let me school you
try to pull some blow manure, get ruggers to your medulla
don’t gotta be a shooter, that’s something that i’ve p-ssed
like a cone full of that gr-ss with a mix with that hash
senoritas holler ‘chico!’ but i told you, ain’t no equal
couple knocks up on your door, put that chopper to your peephole
let you see what i’m about, now your life’s turned up
let your b-tch meet my b-tch and i got ’em turnt up
when them blunts burn out bet we still gonna remain
pimping in this motherf-cker, she a victim to the game, n-gg-

- le

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