Lyrics

[Intro: Duffy] Mad at me, ayy You know I got hoes, ayy Huh, ayy, ayy Let me get in my bag Shit [Verse 1: Duffy] She say she know I got hoes Don't be mad at me, baby, that's just how the game go Keep it player or don't play, I don't know what you was told Bitch, I feel like Terrence Howard, I got hustle and flow Everybody know my songs, from the block to the Bay All the baddies in LA be playin' my mixtape Got some sisters that be gettin' it, couple stripers out of state I get pape', bae, it's my way or the highway Told her can you blame me? I'm a ladies' man Ain't tryna argue with you, I'd rather bе gettin' to the bands Pick my out-of-town bitch up in a Benz at LAX OTM rеspected, probably be your best bet Give them what they ain't expecting, bitch, we young, rich and reckless Got this lil' ghetto bitch, she stay right on Manchester Like the blues too heavy, got my ethika showin' Buyin' bottles, model hoes up in our section, they rollin' (Ayy) [Verse 2: Blue Pesos] From the land, she from my city, it say "424" LA to the Bay, I got a bitch from the 209s Want lean or Casamigo? I let you decide Either way, let me pour it for you, told her, "Open wide" (Told her, "Open wide") Stomp down, I need the thousands, that's the bottom line (That's the bottom line) I got toes and you broke, we are not alike She probably bag ten, that ain't enough, I told her do it twice Steppin' out too exclusive with it, holdin' all my ice (Holdin' all my ice) Black trucks, don't fake tough, I'm with all my guys Shot caller, I'm the one, I've been that all my life Put it down to Texas, she call in and say, "214" Fan had the right bag for us, won't do no shows (Shit, for real) [?] hoes to walk up San Fran to Figure Roll Fake pieces, punk rocks, fake thugs, we don't condone it Pull up on my bitch, had her moms from the Eastside 30K stuffed inside the mattress and it's king-sized (King-sized)