Transcript Lyrics By Real Boston Richey
Uh, uh, ayy, Louis V to my last trip, ***, stick to the transcript
Ho, you wasn’t invited, tell me why the *** your ass here
You would think I was bangin’ OTF, only the fam’ here
Oh, you got that lo’ to the last ***? Okay, go blam him
*** can’t come back over to the penthouse, she left her lash here
Niggas late as ***, ran up seven M’s last year
Twenty niggas up, ***’ good, she had a bad year
Them niggas be cappin’, ***, you know we got a bag here
Throw the strip club up, swing them ones like it’s confetti
*** her with a rubber, but the lil’ *** say she pregnant
Uh, it’s an all-white, but the outside look spaghetti
*** her all night, slow and fast like DJ Fetti
A *** asked me for five hundred, I cut her off ’cause she petty
***, I give a band and up, I give you five K if you ready
Pimpin’ ain’t easy, I’m only goin’, ***, if I let it
Uh, I’m a real heater, I sling that iron, I sling machetes
Uh, my *** all organic, I cut ’em off if they use edit
Young turnt ***, I want a bag, I don’t want credit
Uh, that money gon’ buy a brick, but you can’t but that *** with credit
I was talkin’ cash ***, but if you up, then I’ma bet it
You *** all of her broads, ***, you broke, ***, I said it
I’m bust up than a ***, come check my wrist, flaw settin’
I bought a *** a ring, but we ain’t ready for no weddin’
I know these niggas snake, I can see these niggas sheddin’
Uh, uh, ayy, Louis V to my last trip, ***, stick to the transcript
Ho, you wasn’t invited, tell me why the *** your ass here
You’d think I was bangin’ OTF, only the fam’ here
Oh, you got that lo’ to the last ***? Okay, go blam him
*** can’t come back over to the penthouse, she left her lash here
Niggas late as ***, ran up seven M’s last year
Twenty niggas up, ***’ good, she had a bad year
Them niggas be cappin’, ***, you know we got a bag here
Uh, uh, ***, you know we got the bag here
Uh, uh, ***, you know we got that cash
Rip off paper tag, switched again, then smash
We ain’t pickin’ faces, whoop a *** and a *** ass
Bruises on my hand ’cause I been trappin’ glass bags
Your door swingin’ hard as ***, I got some gas bags
You lookin’ for me, just post, “Prince of Bubba,” with the hashtag
We don’t do no rap beef, drop the lo’, we spank his ass
Uh, uh, ayy, Louis V to my last trip, ***, stick to the transcript
Ho, you wasn’t invited, tell me why the *** your ass here
You’d think I was bangin’ OTF, only the fam’ here
Oh, you got that lo’ to the last ***? Okay, go blam him
*** can’t come back over to the penthouse, she left her lash here
Niggas late as ***, ran up seven M’s last year
Twenty niggas up, ***’ good, she had a bad year
Them niggas be cappin’, ***, you know we got a bag here