Lyrics
Gang came a long way, what can I say?
(It's BlueStrip, baby)
If you see me hopping on a flight
Just know it's first class
(Huh, nah, for real
It don't matter where I'm going)
If see me hopping on a flight
Just know it's pape' OT six of Quagy-agy
You can't tell the Faygo cream
I got fire plastic on me
I ain't pay no cheese
Why you at the light squealing?
You can't race on E
(Shaking my motherfucking head)
Boy, I'ma leave you at the light
Smacked off a pint, Jesus Christ
I might crash tonight
Throw us in the Hall of Fame (Swish)
Half-court, full court, shit
I'm calling gang
Turn the blender on on any bitch
'cause they be all the same
Forty pointers in my Cartiers
These bitches cost a chain
I had to frost the frames
Two Glockys, I'm just dual wiеlding
SBDSM, we need a few million
Tried to put a limit on us?
Thеy gon' need a new ceiling
Hit him with a green tip, it
Ain't no way that dude healing, huh
It's gon' hurt you when you
Cannot a hold of me
Why would I beef with you?
You only known locally
He was talking real hard, we finna go and see
Need a ride or die that's even
'round if you low on E
Out in Cali riding 'round with the roof gone
In the room with six bitches like a
Fuck, I might just do the dash tryna get home
SBDSM, put it on my headstone
I can't trade teams
I understand how Dame feel
All she do is give it up
How do she got a brain still?
If we hit you with that blick
You cannot go and find SHIELD
Unc' a junkie
Up at 2 AM pouring lines still
All you hear is, "What the fuck is that?"
When I'm passing by
If you ain't down to blow that bitch, man
Pass the Glock you saw yo mans wide open
But ain't pass the rock rich, bad bitch
Only thing she like to do is shop
Shopaholic up at Neiman's
Had to hire bag draggers
If it ain't the Ksubis
I'm a Mike Amiri swag sagger
This a Hellkitty, that's a Scatty, boy
My ass faster
If you say the bag can make it'self
You thinking ass backwards
You felt the rain drop and hit the crib
Didn't you? Mike Amiri denim
Christian Dior on my tennis shoe
Living life the fast way
Gang in Bentley coupes
Closet like a ocean, getting dressed
I just be swimming through
Tron pouring syrup
Ain't no flapjacks 'round
Caught his 392 and blew his Scat Pack down
Mister Fitted In The Booth, he rap capped out
I'm in my motherfucking duffy
Put the backpacks down
Gang blow expensive eighths
Hunnid dollar meals and up
I got expensive taste
I just hopped up out a coupe
You got a Lyft today
Out in Nobu with my bitch, needed a getaway
Yeah (It's BlueStrip, baby)
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Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
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