Six Speed lyrics

[Intro]
MTM, hit 'em with the heat

[Verse 1: Pouya]
Ayy, I'm back in the cycle, feel like a psycho, feel like I'm Michael, yuh
Don't look at my bread, don't look at my whip, take a look at my FICO, yuh
I'm pacin' and thinkin' of robbin' a bank with the homies I hang with
These hoes wanna make it, the bank or the banquet
Come hang with the gang, get shady
Drunk drive in a Mercedes, four-five on the hip daily
Screamin' out, "f*ck you pay me"
I ain't patient, I got OCD
Feel like I'm not controllin' me
Still them hoes gon' fall for me
pus*y that they offer me is often not too luxury
But let me see what that lick read
Triple digits in the six-speed
Think I fell in love when that b*tch hit me
I might f*ck around and bust her down
And buy a Bentley for that b*tch
While you was f*cking with them lames, I made my baby mama rich

[Chorus: Pouya]
Baby, play with my di*k, not my emotions
Shed so many tears that I could fill an ocean
We was coastin', now we roller coastin'
Look inside my eyes and feel the pain that you put on me
I just pray to Peep that you don't leave me lonely
Thousand b*tches but they can't do nothin' for me
You my one and only
I know you need some company so come on over
Do you love me, do you love exposure?
[Interlude: Juicy J]
Ayy, man, Pouya, man, I got you, man
Tell these hoes, "Shut the f*ck up," yeah

[Verse 2: Juicy J]
Check this pimpin', gotta watch these women, they catfish (They catfish)
And it look like Meech in the club every time I come through tippin' (Big Meech)
Drop that bag, maybe two or three, that's if she different (Drop a bag)
Wanna come back, I got that sack, it look like Christmas (Backend)
She down to f*ck, you tryna cuff, my nig', good luck, ayy (You trippin')
This ain't no robbery but my b*tch is stuck up, ayy (My b*tch bad)
She bad as f*ck, well like what's in my cup
She the Quicker Picker Upper, I'm loving the way she suck, ayy (Pick me up)
She call me Jay (Yeah, ho), I call her bae (Yeah, ho)
We ain't the Carters but that rock all in your face (It's the rock)
These b*tches thirsty but these hoes ain't got no taste (Ain't got no taste)
It's cuffin' season, man, these hoes finna get replaced any day, ayy