Lyrics
Ayyy
It’s Dolph!
I do this shit for real, my nigga
That 2 seater, fully loaded. This Swisher Sweet, fully loaded
This wrist piece, fully loaded
So this four five, fully loaded
Them young niggas, I can’t control em. Pull up with a thirty thousand dollar
motor
Eyes low, cuz I’m never sober, cuz I’m a mud drinker and a strong smoker
Got a little bitch that get money out Pure Passion and out Stroker’s
My old head nigga said, «You get too much money, young nigga stay focused!»
Had an out of state plug when I was nineteen nigga, so I ain’t ever been local
Jumped in this rap game, spent a little bit of change, brought the streets with
me, now it’s time to take over!
That’s that Paper Route Empire shit. Got a white girl that like to twerk,
and she on that Miley Cyrus shit
Don’t need no pen, don’t need no paper. Just give me a track, and I’ll demolish
it
I’m on the other side of the country, with fifty p’s in my closet, bitch!
I have the bread in the house
In the bed, in the couch
I came up with a multi-million dollar plan at the house
I don’t trust these hoes, so I don’t get head at the house
I just woke up out a nightmare, fucking feds ran in the house
Press up CDs at the house, weighing Ps at the house
Hell nah, I ain’t never had no keys at the house
Lotta pistols, a hundred thousand dollar wardrobe at the house
Fresh as fuck and strapped up, every time I leave the house
I got no cable at the house, just plenty paper at the house
I ain’t talking hoes, when I say I got flavors at the house
Stack my paper to the ceiling, went and bought Mama a house
Said, «Mama, do me a favor, and keep yo ass up out the South.»
Now Mama waving at her white neighbors, just chillin at the house
But Daddy just like me, that nigga still running in and out
What you doing in the hood dad? «Young nigga watch your mouth»
My Mama just called me tipsy, say she brought me in and she’ll take me out
Damn, what the fuck? Yeah I’m still dealin' with this
Daddy just like me, south Memphis nigga, that’s real nigga shit
Hood nigga run through a couple hundred bands while I’m eating on a box of
Popeyes
I’m connected like Wi-Fi
Nigga that’s why I…
I have the bread in the house
In the bed, in the couch
I came up with a multi-million dollar plan at the house
I don’t trust these hoes, so I don’t get head at the house
I just woke up out a nightmare, fucking feds ran in the house
Press up CDs at the house, weighing Ps at the house
Hell nah, I ain’t never had no keys at the house
Lotta pistols, a hundred thousand dollar wardrobe at the house
Fresh as fuck and strapped up, every time I leave the house