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Travis Scott – FRANCHISE REMIX Lyrics ft. Future, Young Thug & M.I.A.

FRANCHISE REMIX Lyrics ft. Future, Young Thug & M.I.A. by Travis Scott

I made you get that Richard Millie, bust it down, bitch
I made you get that Patek right there, bust it down, bitch
I came from out the jungle with this shit right on my arm, no cap, yeah (Yeah)
I’m a franchise nigga, yeah (You like a hundred mil’ up)
Yeah, ten Cuban links, I got gang (Two hundred million)
Yeah, bought my first Rolex serving ‘caine
Yeah, told ya main thing, she the least, she can pour my cup
Copping pink diamonds in your teeth, yeah (Pluto)
Finna load it, told the magazine, yeah (Super)
Bitch, I’m rollin’ in, I’m on codeine, yeah (Bitch, I might be)
Pussy good and deep, she belong to the streets, yeah
Swag in Tokyo and the plug Japanese, yeah
I been gettin’ my check before I knew it was Nikes
Mix, breed, bad bitch buy me like I’m Tyson
Bitch, that X-rated know I make it thunder and lightning (Yeah)
Take that nigga bean and bring my hundred thousand once
One fifty for the walkthrough, I’m totin’ my gun (Pew)
Me and Slatt, Slatt, that super slime and shit
Yeah, swappin’ hoes out, we just slime this bitch up (Alright)
Watch so froze, you know what time is now
Yeah, sak pase, we shootin’ confident (Nap boule)
Buy a bitch a Birky, that’s a compliment, yeah (Straight up)
Ballin’ like the Lakers want a championship, yeah (Ooh, ooh)
Turn up, Freeband Gang (It’s lit)

Yup, in my white tee (Yeah)
Yeah, call up Hype Williams for the hype, please (It’s lit)
Uh, they gon’ wipe you before you wipe me (Phew)
On boxes of checks, not my Nikes (Ooh, yeah)

Cacti’s, not no iced tea (Ah)
Uh, got ’em bamboozled like I’m Spike Lee (Ah)
Uh, you need more than Google just to find me (Ah)
Uh, I just called up bae to get her hyphy (Ah, ooh)
Incredible, icky-icky, general
I just start the label just to sign me
Uh, me and CHASE connected like we Siamese (Woo, woo, woo, ooh, ooh)
Uh, we’ve been on the run, feel like a crime spree, talk to me nicely (Yeah)
(I seen his face, seen it) Yup, on his white tee, uh (Let’s go)

Yeah, yup, call the Sprite people (Call ’em, hol’ on, brrt)
Private flight to France, tryna sight-see (On private flights, brrat)
Popped ’em in his hands, he was typin’ (Da, da, da)
Caterpillar ‘Rari, I fold it, lift it up (Up)
I went on the stand, told the judge to pass my cup (Ayy)
Ran up twenty million, told the Devil, “Keep the luck” (Luck)
Keep that, keep that ho (Uh-uh)
R.I.P. Pop, keep the smoke (Ayy, slatt)
Talk to me nicely (Talk to me nicely)
Keep her on a chain, that ain’t like me (That ain’t like me)
Scotts with no strings, you can’t tie me (Scotts with the, hol’ on, bitch)
I’m higher than the plane, I’m where the Skypes be (Doo, doo, doo, doo, hee)
Yeah, yep, in my slime tee (Doo, doo, doo, hee)
Princey in his prime, yee (Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, hee)
Yellowbone too feisty, yee (Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, hee)
Clean him up, no napkin, yee (Doo)

Yup, in my white tee (Yeah)
Yeah, call up Hype Williams for the hype, please (It’s lit)
Uh, they gon’ wipe you before you wipe me (Phew)
On boxes of checks, not my Nikes (Ooh, yeah)

‘Scuse me
Backin’ out of the cave, we built this shit off of pain
In the cup it built, I’m double-cuppin’ champagne
Come through in quintuplets, automatics, same name
Tryna show all my young niggas how to start up, believe
Coming through with no top, she showin’ in Mickey D
After twelve A.M., come through with special
Elevate, up the top, this shit got levels