Celine

Why you still callin' my phone? Don't you see I'm gettin' chicken? Why won't you leave me alone? Is you mad that you not winnin'? Oh lord, please don't be a victim Run- Run down, you gettin' popped I just took a- and I'm off of the wock' That lil' bitch so chopped She still let me beat up her box though But I won't beat up the box I just might spin in a Tahoe I just might spin on the opps I'm goin' up and nobody could stop I'm goin' up, like some motherfuckin' stocks I got a Glock in my motherfuckin' sock So if you try run down, you gettin' flocked I gotta go, bitch, look at the time, bitch, look at the clock I'mma f*ck her and her friend in a Cullinan Just let me finish countin', man I get the guap and I put it in duffle's, man Then I triple, and double it Then I go with your bitch to the back of the room But she suckin' my dick, she not fuckin' me She want Celine, but she not gettin' shit, 'cause she not my girl Baby, c'mere, do a lil' spin, do a lil' twirl, I'll give you them pearls I told the bitch how she different She not like them girls, I'll give you the world I asked the bitch, and she wit' it Red dot, aim it right there at his fitted Yeah, I bought a new coupe, windows tinted I'm goin' up, you know I'm committed F*ck with me, and shit get wicked I fucked her once, now that bitch, she addicted And yes, little girl, this a gift, bitch She on the floor, tryna see what this dick did I would f*ck witchu, but you twisted Now she on me, tryna feel on my dick print God damn, you a fan Why you playin'? Why you hatin'? Can't f*ck with haters, yeah, they be some haters On my money grind, bitch, I'm gettin' paper On my money grind, bitch, I'm gettin'- bitch, I'm gettin' paper