Lyrics Foreign Dreams - The Game , A!MS

Sim Simma, who got the keys to my beamer

I pull up like a Don, ain't shit you can tell me
I'm smoking loud, you can smell me
Hundred racks in my Balmain jeans
Pussy never phase me

My lola-loca, she a kariola
Moving out of order as I paddle-shift the border
L.E.D on my career, I'm the hybrid of the year
Killer rapper bout to blow up with a suicide beard
We letting off gunshots in the air (brap brap)
That's how we show that we love and really care (brap brap)
Sim Simma, my keys in the beamer
Supply of fun and fame, I'm a white Mogart dealer
I bring that pump action, throwback pump Reebok flow
Pull up the track like the po-po pull up my boat
I'm telling capo I Fidel Castro that dough
Importing bad bitches only with the fat culo

Sim Simma
Sim Simma, who got the keys to my beamer

I pull up like a Don, ain't shit you can tell me
I'm smoking loud, you can smell me
Hundred racks in my Balmain jeans
Pussy never phase me

That hoe she gotta an attidude
So tell me what that pussy do
She say she got an appetite
Well she gon get this dick tonight

You gotta get a brick, chop that muthafucka down
You gotta buy a gun, make sure it's a 4-pound
Get a clique, tell em meet you downtown
Swimming through my paper, fuck nigga gon' drown
Boss nigga, boss nigga! bout the $krilla
Natural born killer, used to be a gorilla
Now I'm in Manilla, chopper size of Godzilla
Zipping bodies up, Michael Jackson in Thriller
Make way for the shooters, Klay Thompson and Steph Curry
Nah, I mean that old school reggie Miller
Look around partner, ain't nobody realer
My niggas got my back like chinchillas

Sim Simma
Sim Simma, who got the keys to my beamer

I pull up like a Don, ain't shit you can tell me
I'm smoking loud, you can smell me
Hundred racks in my Balmain jeans
Pussy never phase me
That hoe she gotta an attidude
So tell me what that pussy do
She say she got an appetite
Well she gon get this dick tonight

Sim Simma, who got the keys to my beamer