Sessions

[Intro: Youngs Teflon] Yeah Yeah Flyo I'm having to put the light back on Uh [Verse 1: Youngs Teflon] I can get rich off music now Don't need no fiends But none of these Ps are clean Inside my Moschino jeans I've got black, got white, got Asian Even Latino beans Big handgun, self-reloading You ain't even seen machines Said the buj has got the fiends addicted Done more hooks than Quavo I've got work on the streets And I've got hooks on the radio I just want money and girls I just want skengs and pesos Pull up on smoke with weebs Man's tryna run, what way, though? Slide on 'em Fly, load up the beats, man glide on 'em Get a drop and we lie on 'em Put wings on the packs, man's flying 'em, traffic Pattern up You ain't got a pitch or a batter up We need the win, no matter what They don't want this as bad as us Bad as Michael with the red jacket Moonwalking with a Z packet Billie Jean, I was really lean With the big machine, it gets active Can't keep phones Cuh the feds track it We just tryna climb To the next bracket [Verse 2: Suspect] Uh, I'm like I could get rich off these bricks But I don't really need the scene I don't even need your comments Preeing weebs Pussy just clocked my shine And long time I had this gleam Long time I had this shit locked I'm like "what do you mean?" Since like the age of fifteen The gyal have been calling me reem I 'member when I used to be ugly Now come like a man of prestige Either the looks or the money Do I look like I give a shit, please? I'm like now I just pick a man's wife Like 'oi, babe, you're coming with me' Coming with the team She's got a bag of friends and they're coming with the Gs I said I felt a way, she's got nothing underneath They love me from I popped right out the scene I said I want the top spot I want nothing inbetween Welcome to the chop shop A nigga cutting from your spleen Supervillain like Doc Oc And niggas pattern when they see me Well, I'll get a nigga's top dropped Don't be fucking round with weebs Way before this rap Niggas were shooting up the scene [Verse 3: Chip] How you know so many shottas And you never sold a brick in your life? How you know so many gyal But you still can't find you a wife? How you smoke all that weed But remember all of them rhymes? True, I came through with the ring Touch mic, let me fist do shine Niggas linked up to block the path Better luck next time Say the wrong ting tonight By morning, bluku bye bye Always get called for verses Man know what I send back gon' be certi I got half a box but it's not to shot I get high as fuck, that's my percy Penthouse view When I'm down by the river Dressing gown on Milly rocking in my slippers Household name Tryna get a little bigger I see you pulling out your phone What you doing, little nigga? Dem man snap too much Dem man chat too much Ayy, Chip, you run your mouth too much Didn't wanna do it but I had to, bruv I hate getting stressed, love getting head Pop your collar at me, I'll be at your neck Still spitting gems, in the trap, invest We just living life, Chippy, Sus and Tef