Burning Up (Original)

[Intro] (Damn, Trademark) [Chorus: The Kid LAROI] Quarter million-dollar vacation (Vacation) Bitch, this is a money conversation (Oh yeah) Look at where I come from, it's amazing Under California sun, on the beach gettin' faded Doubled up my cup and it's a whole lot of dirty (Yeah) Where I'm from, I'm the first on Forbes under thirty (Oh yeah) They ain't ever seen that shit (Yeah) Brand new Porsche, 911, red velvet inside my whip (Ah, ah, ah, ah) [Verse 1: Nardo Wick] Bitch, I'm burnin' up, call a firetruck, they say I'm heatin' up Suitcase for my racks, they say that duffle wasn't big enough Sent her to the doctor 'causе her bottom wasn't big enough I got lots of choppers for thе oppers, we gon' hit 'em up (Grraow, grraow, grraow) Give it up, this a robbery, I want my style back We don't do the woofin', go find someone else to howl at (Grraow, grraow, grraow, grraow) Big chains swinging on my neck like a ball bat If he try to touch it, put a hole in his ballcap (Baow, baow) Grape guts, I put purple seats in my Trackhawk Don't get mad at me, she told me, "Hit her," that ain't my fault General, never taking orders, I'm a big boss If I tell 'em go, they gon' spiral like a football Bloop-bloop, Nardo came through drippin' like a wet treat She don't want relations, she say she just wanna sext me (Just wanna fuck me) Never call my phone, if you need me, better text me [Chorus: The Kid LAROI] Quarter million-dollar vacation (Vacation) Bitch, this is a money conversation (Oh yeah) Look at where I come from, it's amazing Under California sun, on the beach getting faded Doubled up my cup and it's a whole lot of dirty (Yeah) Where I'm from, I'm the first on Forbes under thirty (Oh yeah) They ain't ever seen that shit (Yeah) Brand new Porsche, 911, red velvet inside my whip (Ah, ah, ah, ah, let's go) [Verse 2: The Kid LAROI] Uh, I swear everybody want something from me (Somethin' from me) And if you see me at the club, I got a couple hundred to be there Ain't no questions about it, lot of cheques in my balance Ain't no dancing around it, that lil' ho an eater Reminiscing on my math teachers sayin' I wouldn't make it Now I'm makin' in a day what her salary was payin' I bet that she feel crazy now Paranoia everyday, so I light me a wood and face it (Face it, face it, face it)