Текст песни Kid Ink - Bad Ass (feat. Wale, Meek Mill)

Still Counting Millions
Жанр: Rap
Исполнитель: Kid Ink
Альбом: Still Counting Millions
Длительность: 04:50
Рейтинг: 697
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: StiXX


[Hook: Kid Ink] I'm feeling like a man of the hour, tear down the house Throwin' this money like it's no running out Okay, but I wanna know, can you get any higher? And drop it down the pole like it's a fire Now let me see just what you're doing with your bad ass I can't help but watch you move it with your bad ass Let me see just what you're doing with your bad ass I can't help but watch you move it with your bad ass [Verse 1: Kid Ink] I'm feeling like the man of the hour, host of the evening But girl, this your show, now bring it back, rerun I got pockets of hundreds, they say that change is irrelevant Looking up in the sky I say I love watching you elevate Get high as you ever been, we getting hella bent Ball so hard, I deserve me a letterman Now then let me see that cake, cake, cake, like Entenmann's Ass up, gon' take it down like a sedative That's a negative, ain't nobody wetter than Better get familiar like a motherfuckin' relative Know you see the fireworks, you looking where my section is All this money falling in the air like it's confetti, bitch [Hook] [Verse 2: Wale] I'm the man of the hour Money and power And the humble ain't feed me so I got that Geechi shit out me And the city is ours Where the killers devour Where the niggas lift Smith ands and the victims lift a few flowers Okay what I see dog you and me not cool Bet they be loud when I leave out room Knowing how you move how you got good shoes When the heat on niggas be like pyoom Young nigga with some old riches And the coldest women I be with weave on Necole Bitchie's The broad let me I sweat it out like P90 get me doe And I'm sure she's got them cakes but I'm trying to see that throat 35-o-o my coat We high choking on that dope Turn around girl let a nigga know Double M Young Olu ghost [Hook] [Verse 3: Meek Mill] I'm feelin' like the man of the hour, host of the evening These niggas be hatin they know that we eatin' I got a bitch in Jamaica, fuck her slow when we creepin Get your chick and I take her, talkin' Cabo for the weekend I'm just a young nigga out here ballin' All these bad bitches callin' Wrist all flooded to New Orleans Roll royce so big I can't park it Got gold rims on my Ash Martin And I'm rollin' up in that foreign I said all my bitches ass foreign You could "Run Tell DAT" ask Martin, hold up I flex hard on Instagram, post your bitch goin insta-ham Pyrex pot that's insta-grams Drop that work that's insta-bands And I'm sittin' man, on a couple mill Swear my life's so fuckin' real Back to the wall like fuck the world That nigga say fuck me, I'mma fuck your girl like woah [Hook] [Verse 4: Kid Ink] Now go ahead with that bad ass And fast cash my dash pass Them silicones and fat ass Got cheese out, no rat trap Real late night, no cat naps You so acrobatic Just move it 'til the bass slap The bass slap like the Mac S No question we turnt up, workin' on my fourth cup Then throwin' all this money like the ass is for purchase Very important persons, don't take it too personal Got more bottles than homies, it's a movie Ready for the show [Hook]
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