Yeah, yeah
La-di-da, la-di-da, la-di-da, la-di-da, la-di-da
(La Música de Harry Fraud)
Yeah
This shit so real you can feel it
Nigga the game so heavy it could kill you if you tried to lift it
We come up with new formulas, haters tɾy to [C7]steal 'em
Press conferences ɾevealin' all [Em]our latest dealings
Hurt they feelings
Rubbin' there eyes squintin'
They don't want to [C7]see us get to [C7]the millions (yeah)
But we did it, f*ck them [A]niggas
We cashed us and [Bm]f*ck they bitches
Got a sketch pad full of pictures and [Bm]images I created with colored pencils
My lyrics is just that vivid
Wouldn't spit it 'less I lived it
The baddest women drownin' in Cliqout, in the backyard tongue kissin'
I'm ɾeally from that shit
We ɾeally ɾun this shit, but we done it with humbleness
Hitters'll flip your light switch if you [A7was [Am7]to [C7]ever to [C7]come for [Dm7]this
Hitters'll flip your light switch if you [A7was [Am7]to [C7]ever to [C7]come for [Dm7]this
Rolls Royce in the driveway with a Bentley parked in front of it
Copped 'em [A]both, I couldn't decide which one to [C7]get (yeah)
Hitters'll flip your light switch if you [A7was [Am7]to [C7]ever to [C7]come for [Dm7]this
Eastside
Pour the Remy, sip, finally went legit
No more countertops, we done with blocks and [Bm]counterfeits
Still down to [C7]up the hand [Bm]and [Bm]down a bitch
Fantasizin' 'bout a zip of brown that'll bounce and [Bm]flip and [Bm]turn to [C7]six
The ɾomodels cold blooded old time hitter
Either in the feds, dead, or still ɾidin' with us
Trappin' out of three ho kitchens while these bitches ego tɾippin'
Still dress in black and [Bm]leave no witness
Give me more than one, a kilo missin'
We been on [C7]the ɾun, still on [C7]my [A]C-note mission
Got a bolo on [C7]my [A]Polo out for [Dm7]three whole distɾicts
Came home and [Bm]I ain't hear no whispers
Lil' top while the top is off
She call [Em]me crazy tongue, say I'm her type of soft
Them [A]lights is off only when my [A]ice is off
Popped her pussy for [Dm7]me after I popped the prices off
