Vice lyrics

[Intro: Tino Szn]
(Tino Szn)
Huh

[Chorus: Tino Szn]
Snap on this b*tch off the dome, off the head (Woo)
You was on perks, I was gone off the red (Ahh)
n*ggas tryna copy, wanna bite what I'm sayin' (Ahh)
Countin hella racks see me gettin' to the bread (Ooh)

[Verse 1: Tino Szn]
I done hit 200k for my total, I'm lit, so I can't really work with no local
Then I bossed up on my haters, the same ones that told me I needed to work on my vocals
Please do not talk to me, b*tch I'm not social
I really might takeover, I'm thinking global
Hold up
Hold up, catch a point like focal
Hold up, Brodie got the pack like postal
b*tches outta state wanna freak me (Yuh)
'Cause Tino on a motherf*ckin' three-peat (Facts)
Gettin' cheesе, like my name, CiCi (Yuh)
b*tch, I'm in a space coupе, used to swerve the PT (Skkrt-skkrt)
Brand new Richard Mille on my wrist, can't see me
I done put some Fendi on a b*tch, that Riri
Hold up
Sippin' that wock i be gone
I did this sh*t on my own
[Pre-Chorus]
I can't feel my face
Never ever let a b*tch in my place
And my money old, I call it Myspace
So you n*ggas need to give me my space
Bossed up on a b*tch, holding me back, now im in a CLA
They said I be workin' too much
Gotta get the chips like Frito Lay

[Chorus: Tino Szn]
Snap on this b*tch off the dome, off the head (Woo)
You was on perks, I was gone off the red (Ahh)
n*ggas tryna copy, wanna bite what I'm sayin' (Ahh)
Countin hella racks see me gettin' to the bread (Ooh)

[Verse 2: $NOT]
He drive in that whip, don't get caught like a Kennedy (Huh)
And I know a n*gga with a couple of felonies (Yuh)
n*ggas di*k ridin' like they into pregnancy (Uh, uh, uh)
Ballin' so hard I'm off the 2k legacy (Uh, uh, uh)
Right next to Jordan, shootin' with the .23
Tellin' that b*tch to bend over
With the white Forgis and big body Rovers (Yeah!)
You takin' my b*tch, well she a leftover (Aye!)
Weird ass n*ggas f*ckin' b*tches not sober (Haha)
I like my b*tches forty or older (Yea)
b*tch stop playin' it's not game over (Uh-huh)
di*k so long, tell that b*tch, "Get lower"
Blunt so big, look like a flamethrower (Nah)
My hand on her neck look like a choker
Pull up with a chopper, cut 'em off like a mower (Ah, ah, ah)
You said that's your b*tch, well I know her
[Pre-Chorus]
I can't feel my face
Never ever let a b*tch in my place
And my money old, I call it Myspace
So you n*ggas need to give me my space
Bossed up on a b*tch, holding me back now im in a CLA
They said I be workin' too much
Gotta get the chips like Frito Lay

[Chorus: Tino Szn]
Snap on this b*tch off the dome, off the head (Woo)
You was on perks, I was gone off the red (Ahh)
n*ggas tryna copy, wanna bite what I'm sayin' (Ahh)
Countin hella racks see me gettin' to the bread (Ooh)