THL B Lou - with the Hi-C.

Patron (Patron), Hi-C (Hi-C)
Trynna be my wifey (Trynna be my wifey)
Boutta run up and the choppa get to blasting

Lay 'em' down
His bitch flirting, yeah, she like me
They ain't safe and sound
Put me on a T, yeah, the shit is unlikely

Ayy, ayy, sippin' Patron with the Hi-C
Side bitch trynna be my wifey
Popping them shots and the glass we smashing'
Boutta run up choppa gonna get to blasting

Brody acting dangerous, he smoked himself a pound
Drakeo with a 50 mag, he trynna to blow into a crowd
Gonna hit the blunt, my lung it itching feigning for the sound
Of a bong rip and a Percocet, and layin' someone down

Bad bitches they come my way
I flirt with three then I take them on a double date Nissan to the Dodge, Hellcat's in my garage
Get a bitch she licking then we film and make a blog

Fuck them, them dirty hoes
They wanna know why we spin they block
Then I tell em' my choppa, hear bout the shit you talk
That make him hot, wanna plot wanna make him throw them shots

Call him out because we dissin', try to make em' flip descriptions
In my cup it's a prescription, sprite and lean is what I'm sipping
Caught 'em' lackin' they was pissin', whipe em' off the map the mission
Trying to tell me what a man can do
Bitch, I ain't need permission

On that cold ass night
We was fiendin, lucid dreaming
Trying to find ways out
Out the trap, trying to see what the luxury bout'

Ayy, ayy, sippin' Patron with the Hi-C
Side bitch trynna be my wifey
Popping them shots and the glass we smashing'
Boutta run up choppa gonna get to blasting

Brody acting dangerous, he smoked himself a pound
Drakeo with a 50 mag, he trynna to blow into a crowd
Gonna hit the blunt, my lung it itching feigning for the sound
Of a bong rip and a Percocet, and layin' someone down

Last shot, I'm feeling drunk (Last shot) (I'm feeling drunk)
One last blunt, I tripped in front (One last blunt) (I tripped in front)
Of the club, I'm wobbling out (Of the club) (I'm wobbling out)
Popped one more Molly, feeling like a goblin now

Don't give a fuck what they say
Got a glock then I got in my way, 200 speeding down the highway
My bitch do whatever I say

Man I got caught, all up on the cops radar
I ain't say the rest because that shit was rated R
Really came from selling, to shining just like a star
Make the fake ones wonder who you really are

(Make them wonder who you are)
(Make them wonder who you are)
(5 shootas aiming out the car)
( Out the car)
(Slidin while I'm trippin' off a bar)
(Off a bar)
(Damn I'm really going hard)

Ayy, ayy, sippin' Patron with the Hi-C
Side bitch trynna be my wifey
Popping them shots and the glass we smashing'
Boutta run up choppa gonna get to blasting

Brody acting dangerous, he smoked himself a pound
Drakeo with a 50 mag, he trynna to blow into a crowd
Gonna hit the blunt, my lung it itching feigning for the sound
Of a bong rip and a Percocet, and layin' someone down

(Lay 'em' down)
(His bitch flirting, yeah, she like me)
(They ain't safe and sound)
(Put me on a T, yeah, the shit is unlikely)

Written by:
Bryson Lucero

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find