Choosin'

[Intro]

'Shameka. Its not your fault

At least put a nigga's order in"

[Verse 1: Curren$y]

Uh, daytime lights on

Hell yeah I'm frontin' but you love it

I don't hide bitch, I'm high when I'm in public

Even in my everyday ride I be stuntin'

This is nothing really, you should see me Sunday

I'm from New Orleans love, you know how I'm coming

Hop out that Impala, left the motor running

Them my lil homies front that store, they ain't gone touch it

Spitta where you goin', finna meet the money

I come through in that bread truck, everybody hungry

I be trynna keep it low, but the streets be talking

I heard they think I'm selling dope, on them walkie talkies

They worst than them bitches, them bitches be stalkin'

Outside checkin' for which car a nigga parkin'

She said she from Belize, but she can speak Ferrari

I roll that tree and I write a song about it in the morning

[Chorus: Curren$y]

Pull up in that errrr and them bitches start choosin'

Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'

Pull off in that skrrrrr and them haters gone lose it

Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

Pull up in that errrr and them bitches start choosin'

Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'

Pull off in that skrrrrr and them haters gone lose it

Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]

Pull up, pushing buttons blowing OG like it's nothing

Marijuana fussin, smoking loud is no discussion

Black & Yellow, Black & Yellow, something out of nothing

Choppers like the Russians, bust your head that's a concussion

Full time grinder, all the time hustlin'

Bitch, I'm from the Burg so you know that I be thuggin'

Made it from the bottom, so in God we put our trust in

Certified stoner, get a Raw and put a nug in

Rari's, Rari's, Rari's, Lamborghini hari kari

Suicidal doors, tell the owner I said sorry

Pull up in that you know, pockets fat like sumo

Taylor Gang or Die, Jet 'La La La' Life!

[Chorus: Curren$y]

Pull up in that errrr and them bitches start choosin'

Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'

Pull off in that skrrrrr and them haters gone lose it

Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

Pull up in that errrr and them bitches start choosin'

Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'

Pull off in that skrrrrr and them haters gone lose it

Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]

My homies, we sold pills, The motive was chrome wheels

Pullin' up to club Liv, makin' them hoes peel

My niggas was way trill, wardrobe was unreal

My Cuban was Spanish gold, so vintage as my Cazals

I'm talking the facts of life, can I just have a slice?

Best seats at the game, 'Bron having a night

Let him go check the stats, cause all I want is the racks

Even moving the merch, I'm getting 60 a hat

MCM on my luggage, Reebok making me buttered

Behike Cuban cigars bombaclot he think he Dudus

Double M, we the hottest on the fucking turf

I'm going straight to heaven, crib built like the church

[Chorus: Curren$y]

Pull up in that errrr and them bitches start choosin'

Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'

Pull off in that skrrrrr and them haters gone lose it

Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

Pull up in that errrr and them bitches start choosin'

Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'

Pull off in that skrrrrr and them haters gone lose it

Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it