Lyrics On tha Low - R2rcam

Man, what you call it (What)
Yeah, bitch I'm sippin' juice, I'm on an island
Bitch I get fresh, feel like Destroy, don't need no stylist (Whew)
And these kids they just be trippin, that's what I call it

All that petty shit they talm' bout don't apply to me
I'm too fly, I'm too high, come get up wit' me (I been geek'd)
'Cuz when they down bad on they ass, that's when they come to me
They like "Cam, I had that bag, but now I'm fumbling" (Damn)
We can slide in a SRT lil' bitch, that's up to E (Wow)
On the low, they my kids, they look up to me
Put that shit on god, it's just like Elmers how they stuck to me
I just put the fuckin' forgi's on that all black matted Rover (Skrr, skrr)
Yeah, pulled up like a ghoster
Everytime I fuckin' step, I got Margiela on my feet, I need a coaster (Fly, damn)
Don't know why they playin' like it won't go down, roller coaster
Don't know why they playin' like I won't pull up in that Roadster (Where we goin?)

Finna' take this bitch to Saks, she like high end (Let's hit Chanel)
On the way, imma fly in this Cayenne
They wana be like us but they so broke, they can't buy in
I swear we hang wit' Benjamin too much, we can't be friends (Hell nah)
And we on big dawg shit, we hang in the pool wit' sharks, you can't hop in
I rock that black and red Vlone Palm Angel hoodie, still gon' sin (What)
Iono why you claim this bitch, 'cuz I'm behind she back it in
Iono why you tryna be kind, you not my slime, you not my twin

Yeah, where y'all money at?
What they said about it, yeah
How you sleep im that bed at night when you broke, what you think about, yeah
Way my cuzzo get them bricks up, he could make a house
You look dumb as hell tryna hop in the field wit' the lions
You not gon' make it out (What)
These kids be wildin'
Bitch, bitch I get so fresh, I feel like (Damn)
Bitch I get so fresh, feel like Destroy, ion need no stylist (What)
And I know these niggas be trippin', that's what I call it

Finna' take this bitch to Saks, she like high end (Let's hit Chanel)
On the way, imma fly in this Cayenne
They wana be like us but they so broke, they can't buy in
I swear we hang wit' Benjamin too much, we can't be friends (Hell nah)

All that petty shit they talm' bout don't apply to me
I'm too fly, I'm too high, come get up wit' me
'Cuz when they down bad on they ass, that's when they come to me
They like "Cam, I had that bag, but now I'm fumbling"
Up to me, up to me
On the low, they my kids, they look up to me
Put that shit on god, it's just like Elmers how they stuck to me
I just put the fuckin' forgi's on that all black matted Rover