Treadmill lyrics

[Intro]
Yea Rich Homie
Quan n*gga
I bet right now, you probably wonder what the f*ck this is
Rich Homie Workout music
Know what I'm talking about?

[Verse 1]
I’m in the Benz first like I’m ‘posed to
Don’t approach me n*gga I don't know you, a
Pull up on them in the 442
And gotta 35 rack and it old school
Got a fetish for the cars and the paper
And I gotta fetish for the broad but I don’t chase her
I love how I was broke [?]
Worth about 2 mill on the come up you can rate them
Money over b*tches even though I love ladies
If a n*gga want a verse then a n*gga gotta pay me
I came from nothing n*gga now I’m in a hardwood floor by the lake (East Atlanta)
I remember not smoking now a n*gga hitting wax outta vapors (All that weed)
It don’t matter how much money I got if you owe me n*gga better pay up
Top down in a Z28 now my car look like a spaceship
Hell no I don’t like these b*tches, can’t wife these b*tches ain’t made up
And I don’t want ice cream till I get my cake up
That b*tch n*gga sh*t don’t phase her
Turn this motherf*cker up so loud I wake my neighbors
Get on my line n*gga I’m like a line n*gga
Like a razor, no Motorola, getting faded
I’m in Oklahoma and I’m tasting
That paper
I need a towel because I’m tired as hell on that
[Hook]
Treadmills I’m runnin’ to it
Treadmills I’m runnin’ to it
Treadmills I’m runnin’ to it
On that treadmill I’m running to that paper
You get tired as hell when you running for that paper
I need a towel homie I’m swimming from it
Treadmill I been running
Treadmill I been running
Treadmill I been running
Treadmill I been running
I been running for that paper
I’m tired of that

[Verse 2]
We back in so we slippin ‘out
Got a 20 homie and my pistol c*cked
Put 30K on this simple wave
Big booty b*tch with them dimples babe
Gotta Motel 6 I’m pimping that
And a penthouse suite I don’t live in that
Got the same white [?] on the Diddy got
Can’t love these b*tches thats what this about
Can't trust these n*ggas gotta switch it up
I’m in public walking with a [?] cup
I got forklift bullets that will lift you up
Middle finger motherf*cker I don’t give a f*ck
I run into that paper all day
I run into that paper all day
I’m gone sniff and scratch my money long ways
I’ll be re-up it won’t take me all day
Run up on me n*gga attack and kill
For that money n*gga I go track and field
Like an action figure boy you know you fake as f*ck
You taking picture the likes of these b*tches
Who the f*ck you take me for?
All these homies who want money
I swear I can’t make this up
I like my money faces up
Working out I been shaping up on them
[Hook]