What’s Poppin (Intro) lyrics

by

Fiend


[Intro]
High Class Street Music
I'm on my Memphis sh*t right now (Hey, hey)
Young Dolph, the summer is yours, young n*gga (Hey, ayy)
My n*gga DJ Scream (Paper Route Empire)
Classic (Uh-huh)

[Bridge]
They ask me what's the difference between me and the rest of these n*ggas (That's easy)
I ain't sh*t like the rest of these n*ggas (Hell nah)
f*ck these n*ggas, I ain't got no sympathy every time I flex on these n*ggas (Yup)
If you ain't worth a half a mil' you can't stand next to me n*gga
Hold up, hold up, hold up
This that High Class Street Music 4 (High Class Street Music)
I'm reppin' gangster sh*t (Hood rich)
Ayy, Dolph, hey, ayy, ayy
Paper Route Empire, uh-huh

[Verse 1]
They ask me what's the difference between me and the rest of these n*ggas (That's easy)
I ain't sh*t like the rest of these n*ggas (Hell nah)
f*ck these n*ggas, I ain't got no sympathy every time I flex on these n*ggas (Yup)
If you ain't worth a half a mil' you can't stand next to me n*gga
You damn right, yup, I let the streets get the best of me n*gga
Got a hundred bands on me and that TEC with me n*gga (Ayy)
Ha, uh-huh, yeah that's why I walk like this (Ayy)
Style on these n*ggas and I talk like this (Ayy)
Ha, got another coupe and went and blowed another 30 on my wrist
Had forty racks on me same day I met 2 Chainz (What's poppin', T?)
Quarter million dollar n*gga before I ever met Gucci Mane (Free Gucci)
n*gga better go back and listen to that Welcome To Dolph World (It's Dolph)
Everything I got, b*tch I got it on my own
Everybody keep asking what's up with me and Yo Gotti (What?)
f*ck all that, let's talk about that new Porsche I'm riding (Uh-huh)
I'm getting money, they getting money
That's the end of that (The end of that, bruh)
Y'all know how this Memphis sh*t be
You doing your own thing then they don't wanna see you eat
Damn but you know me, I'm in the streets (Ayy)
Just killed a fifty pack of strong and still killing Squeeky beats (Ooh)
It's 'bout to be a hot summer, lotta money, no sleep (Uh-huh)
Real n*ggas, what's poppin'? Bad b*tches, what's poppin'?
Put your hand down, you ain't bad, b*tch stop it (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Hustlers, what's poppin'? Gangsters, what's poppin'? (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Keep one in the chamber, nah I ain't gotta c*ck it (Hey, hey, hey, hey)
Daddyo, what's poppin'? You know how we rockin' (What up? You know how we rock)
You know we love the streets my n*gga but we gotta stop it (For real)
Your mama sick and she need you out here dog (For real, man)
So I'd be damned if I let these streets take you out here dog
Hell nah, you like my big brother (For real)
Your mama like my mama, my mama like your mama (I love, n*gga, for real)
You call my daddy pops, we almost died together (That's love)
Plus a lot of sh*t I can't talk about, American Gangster n*gga (Damn)
They thought I was playing when I told them we was trapping out the mansion n*gga
Stupid crib in Woodland Hills, I did that a long time ago (Dope boy)
[Outro]
Real n*ggas, what's poppin'? (Hahaha)
Bad b*tches, what's poppin'?
Paper Route, what's poppin'? (Ayy)
Paper Route poppin'
Dolph, High Class Street Music
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