Finesse (Remix) lyrics

[Intro: BossMan Dlow]
n*gga, yeah, yeah
Big Za
(Gentle Beatz)
n*gga, n*gga

[Chorus: BossMan Dlow]
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)

[Verse 1: BossMan Dlow]
I 'member breakin' into houses, okay, where the cameras at? (Where they at?)
Now I got like thirty G's stuffed inside a fanny pack (Racks, n*gga)
Plug threw a nine-piece, okay, bet, I'ma handle that (I'ma get it done)
You ain't keep it P? Okay, bet, stand on that (Stand on that)
All these designer clothes, I look like a damn booster (Haha)
Hundred in a sixty, f*ck state troopers (f*ck 'em)
Phone chirpin' in the mornin', bae, we roosters
Them n*ggas ain't ballin', bae, we hoopers (Splash)
Huh? Bae, we D1 (Yeah)
We ain't worried 'bout nothin', bae, I got funds (Yeah)
Re-up on some— yeah, yeah (Yeah)
Re-up on some— shh, hit the trap, get it done (n*gga)
[Chorus: BossMan Dlow & GloRilla]
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Woo)
And I'm 'bout my check (Hey), you better come correct (GloRilla)
These hoes stay choosin' (On gang, gang), trap straight boomin' (On gang, gang)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)

[Verse 2: GloRilla]
These b*tches ain't no competition, man, these hoes stay losin'
They talkin' gangster sh*t, but I'm the b*tch you hoes ain't foolin'
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, man, you n*ggas ain't shooters
You hangin' with the n*ggas that bucked you for your pistol, you a brewster
I can make my throat stretch (Ayy), I can make a mess (Woo)
Instead, ran up a couple hundred thousand, went thirty days no sex
You know how lame it is to confront me about a n*gga through a text?
You know how fast I'll turn your favorite n*gga into your favorite ex, ho? (Haha)
f*ck, abracadabra on your ass
Stop blowin' him up, he with me, lil sis, we laughin' at your ass (Stupid)
I ain't puttin' that sh*t on, I can show them what that sh*t is (On God)
Mirror, mirror on the wall, tell me who that b*tch is (On gang, gang)

[Chorus: BossMan Dlow]
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)