Clip hanging down my jeans
Won't fold on all of my team
Spent racks on simple things
Come clean I'm Mr. Clean
This bitch must think I'm dumb
Can't get no diamond ring
She want all my cheese
She want the finer things
Bands bussing down my pants
I'm rich as P my stance
Bitch I'm a grown ass man
No I ain't tryna dance
Like what the fuck you mean
Say that t' my face wit' me
Bitch I'm a bougie hoe
They call me pretty Eem
Got racks stuffed in my vault
Racks I don't even touch
You broke? That's not my fault
Like I should give a fuck
Excuses get you nun'
Bro ain't no pity bucks
That nigga flexin ones
Bro that's like 60 bucks
If we smoke then we packin them up
Ain't hittin' raw bitch I'm wrappin' it up
Tell 'em come out
Is you finna pull up?
He won't know that's it's me when I bust out the cut
Fuck it
I gotta run this shit up
Back on the floor then I'm pickin' it up
If he look like a lick then we stickin' him up
Bro we know you a bitch why you tryna act tough
Had to switch the beat up cuz you thought it was ass
'Member days I was walkin' 'round bummy in class
When I was a senior I got me a bag
Now hoes wanna fuck me when they used to laugh
When I was 19
Had to cop me the bean
Back in the grad I got kicked off the team
Now I got more green than the whole damn team
I'm pretty boy Eem
What the fuck do you mean?
Keep on goin'
Don't know how to end it
I'm good with the stack and I don't like to spend it
Team 800 I'm good with this credit
That bitch tried to send me a text so I read it
They tell me "Eem boy just chill with the flexin'"
I told 'em "Nah I won't stop with the flexin'"
When you wit' me it's a king in yo presence
I see a rich nigga up in my reflection
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
