Pink 50s

I say these 50s pink like Wanda, Grant ya wishes, is you Ulyssnin Plenty days I worked on Labor Day, made every day turn Christmas And dat money, get it andele, I pave the way like Mexicans Way I'm flexing, bet she getting wet, I'm raising up her estrogen Plenty nights I had to starve, so I'm eating seafood early breakfast's Got money like Mr. Krabs, so I buy my daughter pearly necklaces Bout money, I swear go dummy, feel like Patrick, I'm Texas wit it I'm in Dallas, I'm the goat like CeeDee Lamb, without even catching shit See these bands, she know ima spend, like a cd playing Put my dawgs before dat chicken like I live in Vietnam Da way I'm snapping, give you plenty captions for yo Instagram I ain't capping, doing magic before dat package hit da ground On da road to riches, feel like tourist, be damned if I get lost She be thinking dat I won't gift her, bitch I'm real as Santa Clause She be knowing, I'm a dog, I put da P, in give me Paw Never cried about no bitch, but I wiped tears that's for my dawgs Weed strong, do you smell it? I ain't even take da sleeve off Before I ever hit rock bottom, bet I'll turn into Steve Austin In the morning I need money, in the morning you need coffee Like my bitches boujie, and talkin proper, woulda thought she worked at Starbucks I like pretty cougars, make good peach cobbler, pussy don't need no startup I'm David Blaine to hard labor, wish you wood, get turned into saw dust I ain't lying, I done been scarred, but ima king, that's on Mufasa Can't believe they thought I fell off, only fall I see was August Just stack yo cheese, and save yo pape, this ain't no race, go at yo pace You wouldn't believe the look on all they face when tortoise win the race If you listen, I'm painting pictures, I'm Leonardo without da paint Got Rafael and Donatello, plenty shells, you try to play I was a teenager, already knowing I would be major, shoulda played for the Braves In Atlanta eating steak, top floor of the battery, but can't go Triple A When I get in dat box and I hit her, she turn a nigga into Babe Ruth Chris my dinner plate, prolly cost the same as Chick-Fil-A Second guessing, I could never, got too much faith in what I say I'm so locked in with plan A, she could probably keep the baby Touchdown, my money already made it, TD ain't gotta chase it Back then I was penny pinching, now I put da P in Pen and Paper, crazy