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Hit-boy – Fan (remix) Lyrics (ft. 2 Chainz)

HIT-BOY
Fan (remix) Lyrics (ft. 2 Chainz)

[Bridge: Hit-Boy]
Ass (Hot)
The way you dance (Hot)
Girl your stance (Hot)
I got plans (I drop it)
Move that ass (Hot)
The way you dance (Hot)
Girl your stance (Hot)
I got plans (I drop it)

[Verse 1: Hit-Boy]
Pop it, pop it, girl you got it, got it
In this seat for like three weeks, girl I been watching, watching
You walk in with all your girls, all solid and thorough
You bouncin’ left to right, you treat this club like it’s your world
The truth, the truth, damn that ass’s the truth
It’s a couple things I’m a fan of, that’s henney money, and you
And they doin’ things, they doin’ things that everybody can do
But them basic hoes, them basic hoes, that’s anybody but you
Cause you one of a kind, you all them kinds and one
A lot of ten’s a lot of nine’s, but I’m tryin’ to find the one
Cause paper-chasing you ’bout that, lane-livin’, I doubt that
Clutch matching your outfit, them new heels that ain’t out yet
They say that pretty dresses are worn to be taken off
So you wear that Vera Wang and make sure that no love is lost
And I know you see me watching, I admit it girl you caught me
f**k a camera let me be your paparazzi, cause –

[Hook: Hit-Boy]
Girl, If you was a star
I would pull up to your show
Spend my last dollar, to be in the front row
Stand out in the line, in the rain or in the snow
I’d do anything, just to let you know
That I’m a f**kin’ fan, I’m a f**kin’ fan (girl)
I’m a f**kin’ fan, I’m a f**kin’ fan (god damn)
I’m a f**kin’ fan, I’m a f**kin’ fan (girl)
Girl I’m a f**kin’ fan, you don’t understand (god damn)
Cause the way you move that –

[Bridge]

[Verse 2: 2 Chainz]
Rubberbands can you understand? how my dick a fan
Im so cool I’m like f**k a fan
can you comprehand poppin two
Im used to coppin two
I got dick for sale
…..try to shop with me like I got dick for sale
posted up, what am I supposed to do?
I had a lot
I dine, pour and bury me at pappadeaux
popular, switch flows, switch clothes
told em all I get is cheese bitch switch pose
What’s your real name?
my my my
might get married at legends and gil sain
you cant trust a big butt and a smile
especially now, can’t tell if they real or if they not
look at these bitches cant tell if they real or they not
look at these bitches cant tell if they real or they not
figured it out
this is my father dick em out
and you a star
I cant wait to see you at night

[Hook]

[Bridge]

[Break x3: Hit-Boy]
Yo, you right there on that poll
Take it down a little lower
Watch these dollars drop on that floor

You aint gotta sing
gotta hit no stage
just to feel the same
even if nobody new your name
girl, cause

[Hook]

[Bridge]

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – She On My Dick (feat. Gucci Mane) (Uncensored)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Who at the door?
Put the money up
I’ma be done kilt one of these niggas ’round here man
Who dat is?
Uhhhhh

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I had to wet the donkey, get some pillow seats
Parkin’ bean projects where the killers be
Can’t be talkin’ out loud or niggas gettin’ shot
Homicide, died in the line of hip hop
All my niggas out the scott snagged the quick slop
Swear to god I’ma die for this wristwatch
Growing up at risco they called us piss poor
Realest nigga in the city, let a bitch know
Red bottoms all white just to shoot dice
Rick Brown leave ya, do it like I’m Big Mike
Jabar home, going on his fifth Rolls Royce
I drop the top and let him wave at the dope boys
Fake golds, niggas front with these dracos
Walk up on ’em with the forty and the case closed
Double M the label with the most pesos
I bought a condo and that bitch got eight floors

[Hook: Rick Ross]
She on my dick, she on my dick
Richest nigga in the city so she on my dick
It make sense, she on my dick
Making moves in the city so she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
I’m making moves, she on my dick

[Verse 2: Gucci Mane]
I get a rush when I see these bitches watching me
It’s like a high when I see these bitches jocking me
She on my dick like she heard what I’m ordering
Drop top Mulsanne, it’s just one of these
She on my dick like she seen some’ she shouldn’t’ve seen
Two hundred thou’, one hundred’s crammed in my Givenchy jeans
And she just wanna make a scene, tryna join the team
And I just wanna paint her face like it’s Maybelline
Bill Belichick, I just got another ring
Bust another check and I just bought a new machine
And like the Chargers I’m about to move the team
You bought a Charger, well Gucci bought a Lamborghin’

[Hook: Rick Ross]
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
Richest nigga in the city, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She see my moves, she on my dick
The richest nigga, yeah she on my dick

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Baby girl do your thing in your Vera Wang
Ever dealt with a nigga still dealing cocaine
Never made it to the game before it’s halftime
Ten stacks for the seats or you can have mine
Never seated by a snitch, they give me bad vibes
Pop a bottle every time you niggas flatline
Lot of bitches but I focus on my fab five
Made her count a half a ticket on the cab ride
Bitch ass nappy girl, you need that rich shit
It take real heart to wanna be a rich bitch
She was the youngest and her mama had six kids
Called her a dummy but she turned into a rich bitch
Run with a nigga with some money out in Memphis
She was posting pictures of the gifts that he would gift her
But the pussy goes to the richest nigga
And guess what? Rozay is that nigga!

[Hook: Rick Ross]
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
Richest nigga in the city, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She see my moves, she on my dick
The richest nigga, yeah she on my dick

Categories
Lyrics

Westside Gunn – Eric B (Hitler On Steroids Album)

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
Yo, turned Judas for the Yeezy 2’s
Balmain biker suit with no bike
The Royce got no roof
Feel like I’ve been sellin’ dope my whole life
Celine on my team, A.P.C Kanye saggin’ in my dreams
Ran trains on Vera Wang, pray for Paris then you pray for me
Madonnas on the mock necks
Wave the MACs out the drop pair
Sportin’ DM in the BMs
Even the blind man he tryin’ to see the Feds
So now these all have zip
Sharks on the Givenchys, who wanna swim?
Gargle with Belaire, beware
Style so dope, Versace brains on the stairs
Elegance, Pyrex for measurements
Iceberg history, your misery, your missin’ the concepts
Android homie, your home, where the work?
Just [?], Dobermans on the shirt
Before I starve, hit [?] with a mop
Breakin’ bricks at Joyrich, we rich
Shootouts at Bally’s, left his brains on the suede joints
Yo Lord, I think I’m motherfuckin’ hit
Throwin’ testers out the window
Fiends scramblin’, I’m just dancin’ in my Kenzo
Pump the Enzo, wack crack spot mascots
For more [?] drug dealer dreams came true
Don’t get your moms burried, stylin’
Margiela Gats and the most sane
Pissin’ D’Ussé for a week straight
Saint Laurent over the Glock, kick in your door
All you seen was red bottom on the moccasins

[Hook]
Thank God he gave us drug dealin’
Thank God he gave us drug dealin’
Thank God he gave us drug dealin’

[Verse 2: Westside Gunn]
Yo, got the [?] joint watermelon
You saw the real in my eyes to where your powder swimmin’
Will fly fry God blessin’ America
Pardon my back, Pyrex, two-three cover the MAC
Immaculate with a half a brick
Bag the fish, then I scramble like [?]
Niggas know my repertoire, I dropped real tears when kid shot Escobar
Best of all time when it come down to this fly shit
All star, my rhyme, crime, drive-bys, line for line sick
Sportin’ [?] in Doomsday, compare me to [?], room spray
Got the beam on the Glock tip
Popped up in the drop six and shot flips
Caused the riot up at [?]
Gas stoves, use the hammer or the fork

[Hook]
Thank God he gave us drug dealin’
Thank God he gave us drug dealin’
Thank God he gave us drug dealin’
Thank God he gave us drug dealin’

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – She On My Dick (feat. Gucci Mane)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Who at the door?
Put the money up
I’ma be done kilt one of these niggas ’round here man
Who dat is?
Uhhhhh

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I had to wet the donkey, get some pillow seats
Parkin’ bean projects where the killers be
Can’t be talkin’ out loud or niggas gettin’ shot
Homicide, died in the line of hip hop
All my niggas out the scott snagged the quick slop
Swear to god I’ma die for this wristwatch
Growing up at risco they called us piss poor
Realest nigga in the city, let a bitch know
Red bottoms all white just to shoot dice
Rick Brown leave ya, do it like I’m Big Mike
Jabar home, going on his fifth Rolls Royce
I drop the top and let him wave at the dope boys
Fake golds, niggas front with these dracos
Walk up on ’em with the forty and the case closed
Double M the label with the most pesos
I bought a condo and that bitch got eight floors

[Hook: Rick Ross]
She on my dick, she on my dick
Richest nigga in the city so she on my dick
It make sense, she on my dick
Making moves in the city so she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
I’m making moves, she on my dick

[Verse 2: Gucci Mane]
I get a rush when I see these bitches watching me
It’s like a high when I see these bitches jocking me
She on my dick like she heard what I’m ordering
Drop top Mulsanne, it’s just one of these
She on my dick like she seen some’ she shouldn’t’ve seen
Two hundred thou’, one hundred’s crammed in my Givenchy jeans
And she just wanna make a scene, tryna join the team
And I just wanna paint her face like it’s Maybelline
Bill Belichick, I just got another ring
Bust another check and I just bought a new machine
And like the Chargers I’m about to move the team
You bought a Charger, well Gucci bought a Lamborghin’

[Hook: Rick Ross]
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
Richest nigga in the city, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She see my moves, she on my dick
The richest nigga, yeah she on my dick

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Baby girl do your thing in your Vera Wang
Ever dealt with a nigga still dealing cocaine
Never made it to the game before it’s halftime
Ten stacks for the seats or you can have mine
Never seated by a snitch, they give me bad vibes
Pop a bottle every time you niggas flatline
Lot of bitches but I focus on my fab five
Made her count a half a ticket on the cab ride
Bitch ass nappy girl, you need that rich shit
It take real heart to wanna be a rich bitch
She was the youngest and her mama had six kids
Called her a dummy but she turned into a rich bitch
Run with a nigga with some money out in Memphis
She was posting pictures of the gifts that he would gift her
But the pussy goes to the richest nigga
And guess what? Rozay is that nigga!

[Hook: Rick Ross]
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
Richest nigga in the city, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She on my dick, she on my dick
She see my moves, she on my dick
The richest nigga, yeah she on my dick

Categories
Lyrics

Meek Mill – Fa Sho (feat. T Dot) (Priorities 5 Album) letras

[Hook: Tdot Illdude]
I be getting money fucking hoes
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of things on me everywhere I go
If you on the other side then you got to go
Bruce Lee Roy I got the glow
Diamonds dancing in my chain it come from Joe
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of niggas hating but they keep it on the low
I keep my bitch in Celine that’s fa sho
I keep my bitch in Vera Wang that’s fa sho
I keep my hittas on the plane that’s fa sho
And the streets know my names that’s fa sho, sho

[Verse 1: Meek Mill]
I’ve been getting money on the low
Type of nigga buy a Birken for your hoe
Hundred thousand on me everywhere I go
Bought a Range just to drive it in the snow
Fuck you niggas talking shit is lit
Riding dirty got the chopper in the Bent
Got your baby momma trying to get a flick
Now nigga tell your baby momma fuck up off my dick
I’m just cooling with my young niggas
She in the VIP with all these drug dealers
Acting like she never fucked with you
And she told me that you a fuck nigga
When you popping like we popping my nigga ain’t no laying low
Mixing that Givenchy with Valentino camo
Fuck on the air mattress all in the bando
Dabbing like I’m Cam tho
Touchdown, yeah hoe

[Hook: Tdot Illdude]
I be getting money fucking hoes
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of things on me everywhere I go
If you on the other side then you got to go
Bruce Lee Roy I got the glow
Diamonds dancing in my chain it come from Joe
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of niggas hating but they keep it on the low
I keep my bitch in Celine that’s fa sho
I keep my bitch in Vera Wang that’s fa sho
I keep my hittas on the plane that’s fa sho
And the streets know my name that’s fa sho, sho

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
Yea, mobbing at the clear port
Richard Milli all plain like the air port
Therefore I am flyer than an air force
Looking devilish I pull up in that red Porsch
Now we got your bitch up on the money train
I heard she fucking what’s his name and what’s his name
We only know your wifey by her Twitter name
I only pop the perc so I don’t feel the pain
Feel the pain, feel the pain, make them feel the flame
All these corny niggas winning I don’t know who to blame
But maybe its the internet, I’ve been busy counting money you should do the same
Every nigga round me got a body
Shorty with me trying to kick it like karate
In my DM acting thirsty word to Gotti
And it be going down when I pull up to the party

[Hook: Tdot Illdude]
I be getting money fucking hoes
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of things on me everywhere I go
If you on the other side then you got to go
Bruce Lee Roy I got the glow
Diamonds dancing in my chain it come from Joe
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of niggas hating but they keep it on the low
I keep my bitch in Celine that’s fa sho
I keep my bitch in Vera Wang that’s fa sho
I keep my hittas on the plane that’s fa sho
And the streets know my names that’s fa sho, sho

[Verse 3: Meek Mill]
I’m still balling, money still calling
I’m on my eigth Rollie, niggas still talking
Flood the whole band, it look like real water
Ticket after ticket I feel like I’m will calling
Niggas hating on me I don’t feel for ’em
Cause my South Philly niggas kill at will for ’em
And my North Philly niggas do the drill for ’em
The lawyers paid nigga made me spend a mil on ’em, pussy!
Blow the motherfucking money on these niggas

[Hook: Tdot Illdude]
I be getting money fucking hoes
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of things on me everywhere I go
If you on the other side then you got to go
Bruce Lee Roy I got the glow
Diamonds dancing in my chain it come from Joe
Hundred bands on me everywhere I go
Lot of niggas hating but they keep it on the low
I keep my bitch in Celine that’s fa sho
I keep my bitch in Vera Wang that’s fa sho
I keep my hittas on the plane that’s fa sho
And the streets know my names that’s fa sho, sho