paroles de chanson Asthma Attack (feat. Rich The Kid & Jay Critch) - Rich The Kid , Famous Dex , Jay Critch

Okay (Dexter!) Dexter!
(Bankroll Got It) ha! Yeah!

Money on me, on my teeth, ha
I keep a .30 on me
.30 is right in my jeans, I call Fatdaddy you know that he shootin' for free
Ha, yeah, he shootin' for me
Huh, yeah, yeah that's my twin
We get the money, yeah, we win
We fuck a lil' bitch, and they twins
Yeah, with her friend

Yeah (oh yeah), ooh (what), wait (huh), I took that bitch on a date
I might just bust on her face
She want the money, she late, I told her she late
Huh, what, the old Dex is back
Huh, yeah, a asthma attack (huh)
And it's on me, baby-girl just relax

Yeah, (bitch) I'm back here
I get a check, no welfare
I could've been broke, yeah that was last year
Look at my pockets, them bitches like big ears
Ha, (what) make a wish
She look at me, want a kiss
Baby-girl I do not kiss, bitch
Who do you kiss with your lips, miss?

Sorry, for my cussin', I ain't mean all that
That's your cousin? (That's your cousin?)
He drink Robitussin?

All of my kids straight
Got rich off a mixtape (got rich off a mixtape)
My money like 6'8"
My chain a brand new Wraith
My bitch, she bad today (she bad)
Can't fuck with these niggas, they fake
It's Kobe, expensive my steak (my steak)
I had too much on my plate (woo)

Yo Dexter! (Dexter!)
Run up, we putting that boy on a stretcher (what?)
Yo Dexter! (Dexter!)
That pussy was good, I bought her a Lexus
Marshall went and got them pints from Texas
Break a brick down in the kitchen and I stretch it
World is mine, I don' already said it
Bitch want a bag, but she cannot get it (hey)

Bitch want a bag, but I tell her forget it
Left wrist on baguetti spaghetti
Carti' frames, so I see where I'm headed
She let me swipe like it's debit or credit

Hop out the Lambo' truck
Brand new Amiri stuff, and I'm poppin' the tags
Stay with that cheese on us
If she ain't eating up, then I'm dubbin' it fast
Try to compete with us
Little nigga you don't make no deposits

Ran it up when I ran out of options
Runnin' down like, "What's in ya wallet?"
Ayy, came a long way, hittin' stains in the Balmains
I'm with Dex, makin' plays like the ball game
Don't gotta flex, diamonds hitting from long range
Stay with shooters, point him out, and they all aim