Whats Ours lyrics

[Chorus: Joey Fatts]
Hop in that [?] body, swerve
Young n*gga straight off the curb
Really get to it, boy, f*ck what you heard
[?] on ice
My b*tch [?] splurge
I tell her don't trip on the price
But she's still mad, girl, you got your nerve
Hella boujee but not for the burbs
[?] my hand up her skirt
And we ride with my strap in her purse
[?] taking the charge
They ask how I'm living, I'm living it large, ayy
Cut throat, let no one or no thing come between [?]

[Verse 1: Joey Fatts]
[?] ashes on my chrome hearts
My b*tch told me she was leaving but I'm knowing that she never go far
My lil bro got a demon, drive that b*tch like it was a go-kart
All thе sh*t that we achieving, we ain't got a choicе but to go hard (Go hard, n*gga)
Self-made, need a real paid b*tch who gon' suck and f*ck and don't say sh*t
I brought the homies, girl, who you came with?
In some years from now we gon' be on the same sh*t
All blue strips in the duffel, money gon' be coming in double
Mac and cheese coming out truffle
Just stuck in my rich n*gga ways now
Let a b*tch n*gga play now
Once we get that location my n*ggas gon' slide
We treat that boy's block like a playground
Before the pandemic I wasn't outside
I been getting money since K-Town
n*gga get down and you can lay do
Wn with the same n*ggas 'cause they stayed down
Since we moved packs on greyhounds
I'm way out of these n*ggas range now
And all of my n*ggas is paid now
Out [?] grinding myself
Hit the bank, deposit $100K, that's just notch in the belt, Fatts
[Chorus: Joey Fatts]
Hop in that [?] body, swerve
Young n*gga straight off the curb
Really get to it, boy, f*ck what you heard
[?] on ice
My b*tch [?] splurge
I tell her don't trip on the price
But she's still mad, girl, you got your nerve
Hella boujee but not for the burbs
[?] my hand up her skirt
And we ride with my strap in her purse
[?] taking the charge
They ask how I'm living, I'm living it large, ayy
Cut throat, let no one or no thing come between [?]

[Verse 2: Dave East]
Hella boujee, my crib in the burbs
Hop in my Maybach and swerve
Smoking, I'm knocking G Herb
[?] n*ggas get on my nerve
Y'all n*ggas got some nerve
I don't drink lean no more
I almost relapsed 'cause I got some syrup
[?] right off the curb
[?] my pocket, tryna make profit
n*ggas is trash, the rest of 'em garbage
[?] stuck on my conscience
I [?] back then pull up with chopsticks
Presidential on the Rollie
Pockets is fat, I be feeling like Joey (My n*gga)
See me on Instagram but you don't know me
See you on TV, you n*ggas don't know me
If I'm in LA you know I'm in the [?]
I got the drop that I got from a birdie
I feel like Pac, I'ma pop it like [?]
Louis my socks, I be coppin' sh*t early
I'm [?] and I'm thinkin' 'bout Yams
And I [?] on the grams
Pull up in pink like I'm Cam
Used to think what I can keep off these grams
I'm talking staircase, private sales
n*ggas'll murder you bear face
No mask, we toe tag
Know a n*gga did it when he stay away
Grimy n*ggas, they be still around
At the funeral and all that
With your name on their ball cap
Claiming they love you, it's all cap
[?] they call, I don't call back
I feel the [?] through their handshake
No witness [?] can't trace
They know I'm the artist they can't trace
[?] look in the mirror and can't face
[?]
[Chorus: Joey Fatts]
Hop in that [?] body, swerve
Young n*gga straight off the curb
Really get to it, boy, f*ck what you heard
[?] on ice
My b*tch [?] splurge
I tell her don't trip on the price
But she's still mad, girl, you got your nerve
Hella boujee but not for the burbs
[?] my hand up her skirt
And we ride with my strap in her purse
[?] taking the charge
They ask how I'm living, I'm living it large, ayy
Cut throat, let no one or no thing come between [?]