Текст песни Fly - Tyga
Stevie
J]
+ (Future)
DJ
Stevie
J!
(We
gon'
get
to
it
nigga...)
Real
niggas!
(...
by
any
means
necessary)
Rich
niggas!
(We
were
born
like
this)
Fly
shit!
I
be
on
some
fly
nigga
shit
when
I
step
out
Fuck
what
y'all
talkin'
about
I
be
on
some
rich
nigga
shit
when
I
step
out
Fuck
what
y'all
talkin'
about,
fuck
what
y'all
talkin'
about...
Fuck
what
y'all
talkin'
about,
fuck
what
y'all
talkin'
about
I
be
on
some
fly,
rich
nigga
shit,
steppin'
out
I
be
on
that
fly,
rich
nigga
shit,
steppin'
out
Fuck
what
y'all
talkin'
about
Quarter-mill
for
the
car,
quarter-mill
on
the
arm
Black
Double-R,
back
the
fuck
off
Drophead,
cut
your
head
off,
hard
top,
no
soft
Wet
pussy
turn
me
on
when
it
keep
me
hard
King
shit,
Versace
tiles,
I
ain't
dryin'
off
Marble
floors,
you
dusty
niggas
couldn't
walk
on
Jesus
walked
on
water,
so
I'mma
walk
on
charters
Private
jets,
baguettes,
only
fuck
with
ballers
All
this,
half
a
mill,
first
week
of
August
I
ain't
even
doin'
shows,
I'm
just
workin'
on
the
album
Forty
for
the
feesha,
I
just
payed
my
mama's
Visa
You
in
the
club
breathin',
that
Ten
X,
you
niggas
Beavis
She
give
me
+butt,
head+
– get
brain
like
a
genius
I
got
that
dope
shit,
the
80s
chrome
Alpinas
(White
Beamer)
- my
son
gon'
inherit
this
flow
You
niggas
gumball
drops
on
the
bottom
of
my
sole
HA!
Young
nigga,
we
Rich
Gang,
came
up
from
that
rich
game
Picture
me
rollin'
down
Biscayne,
black
Double-R
with
your
bitch,
mane
With
that
top
off
and
that
drop
head,
pull
up
on
'em,
they
drop
dead
Niggas
talkin'
that
bird
shit,
when
them
birds
came,
they
was
not
dead
And
I
was
out
there
with
that
work
from
the
15th
to
the
1st
My
clique
mean
and
they
merk,
we'll
let
them
clips
squeeze
like
dirt
When
it
come
to
them
dollars,
nigga,
why
bother?
These
niggas
don't
want
no
problems
'Cause
I'll
kill
all
y'all
dead,
put
a
price
on
your
head,
get
your
brain,
I
doubt
it
(WHOOO!)
I
be
on
that
fly
shit
– M-O-B
that
mob
shit
Boy,
I'm
talkin'
G5
shit,
50
racks
for
that
ride,
shit
That
ain't
yours,
that's
my
bitch,
you
clocked
out
and
I
signed
in
We
young
niggas,
we
grindin',
we
shinin'
like
diamonds
(WHOA!)
Make
them
pop
ten
bottles
like,
"give
me
ten
more"
I'm
in
the
club
passin'
weed
to
the
bitches,
like
"hit
this
shit"
Your
stupid
ass
outside
talkin'
'bout
"get
me
in!
"
Should've
known
I
was
a
fool,
when
I
moved
When
I
pulled
up
in
that
Bentley
- told
y'all
I
was
gangster,
still
somethin'
like
a
pimp
Don't
say
I
didn't
– million-dollar
flow,
got
a
lot
of
dough,
brand
new
clothes
VIP
for
niggas
like
me,
wish
a
motherfucker
would
touch
that
rope
(Rappers,
hustlers,
dealers,
killers,
thugs,
goons,
beasts,
guerillas)
(Money,
cars,
jewels,
chinchillas,
jets,
cribs,
condos,
villas)
Say
that,
then...
(hold
up),
goddamn
right,
bitch
I've
been
fly
since
way
back
when
That's
right,
I
am
YMCM,
Grave
Street,
play
that,
there
Burnin'
up
the
track
like
a
motherfuckin'
matchstick,
you
know
that's
him
Tryna
shine
when
you
come
around
stars
like
us,
they
do
look
dim
Ain't
got
your
game
tight,
ain't
got
your
swag
up,
shame
on
them
Your
legs
too
little
and
your
T-Shirt
big;
nigga,
go
to
the
gym
For
the
love
of
my
clique,
we
up
in
this
bitch
So
sorry
that
your
girl's
suckin'
my
dick,
throwin'
money
in
the
air
like
I'm
sick
of
this
shit
We
be
on
our
fly
shit!
You
see
us
right!
Fly
shit!
Swag
or
die...
and
we
high
Haha...
Rich
Gang
DJ
Stevie
J!
Stunna,
salute!
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