Lyrics THE RAMADA - Esquire

East side with my main Gs where the dames be
Niggas can′t touch, I'm too cold get a brain freeze
I was birthed with the gift of gab
Do you blame me?
If the flow was like alcohol, it′d be Baileys
Sip that, tryna break you off like a Kit-Kat
Grip that
Make your lips smack when you kiss that
You was with a god ma, don't ever forget that
Niggas don't want the drama, that′s a mismatch
Outta sight, outta mind, money is the bottom line
I′m looking for a sign like a dotted a line
Suite level rooms at the Ramada
I'm tryna eat, are you niggas still on Ramadan?
Godspeed, I′ma light the J, call me Gatsby
Gladly, never tell the feds where the gats be
I just need the tax free
Shorty coming thru in the taxi
Said she got that shit that'll relax me