f*ck_prod-maj-nd-808-demon_ lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah
808 demon
What the f*ck-

[Chorus]
f*ck, f*ck
b*tch I spilt my cup
Bags on bags on bags, I just be running sh*t up
Racks on racks on racks, she wanna f*ck, I touched down in Paris
$1,000 my appearance, too many sons I feel like a god damn parent

[Verse 1]
217 elites, yeah, these b*tches say that I'm fleek, huh
Miami, b*tch I got heat, I went to good times, I be hurting my feet
These n*ggas look up to me, yeah, Maajins gon' f*ck with the beat
Bought her a new bag, slay boy you sweet
And I got top in the G
They asking questions, 'How the f*ck you do it?'
But I just talk on the beat
I'm getting money up, b*tch I'm higher than God
I put my cup on the seat
Lean on my ex hoe, b*tch I feel like X
I'm in yo' hood sipping tea
I'm a lil addict to this God damn coupe
And this b*tch quit sipping lean
[Verse 2]
Hold on, my coupe it got two doors
I'm gon' dip like 'kudos'
I been getting so much bag
My pockets fat like Xhulooo
f*ck, yeah, hold on
f*ck, b*tch I'm the goat, run it up
I- I- I could just say the same sh*t on music, 'cause I'm still going up
F- f*ck, yeah, don't f*ck with that lame sh*t
You a mean b*tch, I'll tell you straight up, f- f*ck
These n*ggas really my sons
You cannot be me b*tch, you gon' run out of luck

[Chorus]
f*ck, f*ck
b*tch I spilt my cup
Bags on bags on bags, I just be running sh*t up
Racks on racks on racks, she wanna f*ck, I touched down in Paris
$1,000 my appearance, too many sons I feel like a god damn parent