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Lyrics

[Intro] Rich Turn up, Rich [Verse 1: BandGang Javar] My niggas had a hard time convincin' me to rap I already made what the label offered out the trap I sell bags, know the fans started hearin' y'all cap They'd rather play my old shit than listen to an old rat Never go against the family Me and Smiles'll still bring them bands out like a rally My everyday cars the ones you're in in Miami You be six deep in your mama old-ass Camry Your bitch under every picture like an Instagram bot You know how rats be around cheese, don't act shocked That tough shit ain't gon' get you nowhere, don't get popped Your mans yеllin', "Please help" 'causе the bleeding won't stop Got niggas scared to say my name, I'm Lord Voldemort They know Boom gon' post up at they crib if they come to court These the same guns the Russians usin' in the war We like UPS, we pull up, leave shit on the porch [Verse 2: BandGang Lonnie Bands] West Al-Qaeda, blew his noggin out the car door Flat that boy tire, Firestone can't put air in 'em more The disses get tired, your lil' eyes tension war To tell the truth, in high school, you was me for hollering on the floor Took one to the hat, bounced back, they ain't like that Blew one hundred racks, two hundred racks to turn the pop black Flew a hundred packs like fuck rap, I'll be right back Miami stay on fully, snatch you right up out that shiesty mask We known for spankin' bullies for the fullies ever got attached They can free Big Bully, now they need to free Stone Deek and Cab Yeah, I hit your bitch and upped her stock like it's forex [Verse 3: The Godfather] It's the BandGang, we've been killin' way before rap Could miss me with that tough shit, 'cause, nigga, I ignore that Big Shred told me get him, we gon' pop up at your doormat Got two Glocks apiece, hittin' blocks, it's just me and Pat I just use my bitch card like a giffy She ain't petty, 'cause I do the same thing, she ain't stingy I remember made a hundred thousand cash off a fifty Then I showed my mama two hundred in blues, all Nipseys, this shit get risky I can't wait until the day I go and cop a Richey High as hell, leanin' off a twelve, finna smack a Bentley Always got one in the head, ain't gotta rack the glizzy Baby mamas always in they feelings, why you actin' pissy? Just me and Rose, tryna hit a store, clean out a ten-piece Thought we was comin' back tomorrow, we've been out for ten weeks I know an old head, pull up and smoke you on a ten-speed Told him, "I feel you, unc', but I'm the type to [?]" [Verse 4: BandGang Biggs] I ain't trippin' 'bout no rap shit, I got racks, bitch I got racks fallin' out my pockets all in Saks Fifth Brung a zip of this exotic weed, you can't match this Nike Tech off the white Lows, ain't gotta act rich I just made ten off the stocks, hallelujah You ain't hip to lil' shit, that's why I gotta school you I can't give you free cheese, but I can be your tutor Chain froze, that's why I had to pull it out the cooler You can't afford to get inside the club, niggas pissy But all your posts talkin' 'bout you the freshest in the city Rappin' like you did it and you didn't, niggas silly When I get started, they be screamin' out, "Somebody get him" [Outro: BandGang Biggs] Big Money BandGang Get your broke ass down