No Stars In Maybachs Lyrics by LUCKI
(Feat. Rylo Rodriguez & Veeze)
Damn
Workin’ so hard, I can’t celebrate the holiday
Got six sons, they don’t get me nothin’ for Father’s Day
Twelve years old, I was trappin’ in front of granny face
Bust a brick open, then you gotta burn the duct tape
Dub on his head, got bro’nem lookin’ for ’em real hard
Brought my hoe a Benz, she ain’t gotta worry ’bout no Kia Boyz
Don’t got a hustle bone inside his body, just like to steal cars
Four foreigns, cut the music up, these ain’t his cars
I was locked up with the Motorbend, they hit the door again
I was tryna clean my life up like a damn custodian
I’m mixin’ up a Sprite, it’s dirty like a homeless man
I’m dressin’ like a white boy, you’ll think I was born rich
I’m walkin’ through the mall, the blicky in my armpit
I miss the Wock’ so much, I might just tell the President
Huh
Playin’ ’round with a firearm what got Lil Fye killed
If she leave, still won’t cry ’bout it, even though she top tier
Her lil’ brother sweatin’ the mail again, it still ain’t got here
Bad vacuum like a janitor, he up on Hi-Dep
Bro my twin, he want nigga dead, he felt like I felt
It’s a Glock with a grr attached, this the black belt
This week, what we spent on lean, ’bout your life spendin’
Thick bitch, when she walkin’ by, start a car wreck
It was weak when I had her friend, it’s a reflex
You was doin’ all that city girl, I’m just gon’ be direct
You know me, I’m still a slimy nigga, Jeff ain’t free yet
I ain’t got nothin’ for a rookie ho, ain’t got her feet wet
I’m tellin’ hoes I need them bad, I just had popped a Xan’
Ain’t bitchin’ ’bout no radio, they play me through the land
These hoes want that Emilio, they fuckin’ opposite
I threw a dub at Jizzy though, her old nigga was sick
Young, rich, and deli’, got a blackout on the ‘Vette
Rose bust Patek, it’s a plain scale in there
I’m in first class, catch your bitch in the air
I done nodded off, but he got the message clear
I get paid like a half-court shot, a big check
Play it safe, walkin’ in my closet, wear a life jacket
I was taught, “You better not trust nothin’ but the process”
I put mills in the bank and then let it digest
If I would’ve been right there with Armani, I’ll talk him out it
I wish bro would’ve been a boxer, he fightin’ a body
Be a few niggas from my block say I turned my back
They say I’m dead ass actin’ funny, I ain’t Bernie Mac
It’s a great day when nothin’ but bag plays hit your phone up
Got a jeweler way in Georgia, but my watch Daytona
Put her out and made a slut walk, Amber Rose’d her
She keep askin’ where the stars in the Maybach Virgil