Lyrics Pulled up (feat. 2 Chainz) - Young Dolph , 2 Chainz

(It′s Dolph)
I don't get mad,
I just get paid
Smelling like a pound,
Walking in the bank
I been smoking weed
(Since when)
Before the fifth grade
This a man′s world,
Bitch stay in your place
Shitting on your favorite rapper,
Did it by mistake
Went and got a mansion,
Went and got a maid
Naw I ain't got a deal,
But I got a Wraith
I call my clientele,
I'm sorry for the wait
All these pounds in my traphouse,
Feel like I′m out of shape
These bitches love me man,
I′m drinking muddy man
Drop a four in a ginger ale,
It tastes like bubbly man
Young nigga hit a lick now you can't tell me nothing man
Pulled up in a Porsche,
Pulled off in a Wraith
Pulled up in a Porsche,
Pulled off in a Wraith
Pulled up in a Porsche,
Pulled off in a Wraith
I saw my old bitch yesterday,
You should′ve seen her face
Pulled up in a Porsche,
Pulled off in a Wraith
Pulled up in a Porsche,
Pulled off in a Wraith
Pulled up in a Porsche,
Pulled off in a Wraith
I saw my old bitch yesterday,
You should've seen her face
Pulled up in a Porsche, that bitch too anemic
Got that Rolls Royce, that bitch too conceited
Then I got them feet, had to get a pedi
Bought Keisha the Audi, you other niggas petty
Bet you ain′t got more money than harmony in heaven
Flat black Chevy, flat black MAC 11
I'm rolling up by the pound, you rolling up by the seven
Walk in the room with the black and white fur, that bitch that look like a panda
I put the slang in the gram, I just might loan your fam
I do this shit for Atlanta, shoot that bitch up with a cannon
All that I want is some Act, whip that shit up with a Fanta
Niggas don′t know how to act, when I pull up bitches pull out the cameras
Pulled up in that 9 11, pulled off in a Wraith
This my second one this year, it still got paper plates
I'm laughing out the [?] the way I'm laughing to the bank, ha ha
All you niggas standing in line, you need more food to fill my plate
Swear you pussy niggas sweeter than some crème brulee
I got niggas in the kitchen that′ll razorblade your face
I′m frying chicken in my fucking Wraith, ghetto nigga
Eating Dodger's chicken in my fucking Wraith, what can I say
Greasy fingers, spill some hot sauce on that leather suede ceiling
Barbeque interior, collard green exterior
All these cars outside I can′t decide which one to drive
And all these hoes outside I can't decide which one I want inside