Flexin’* lyrics

Lyrics from Snippets

[Intro]
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

[Verse]
Get the drugs from the store, ayy
Then I'm with the guys I got swishers I got papers, ayy
We be getting high with the lean and with the Xans now
I'ma touch the sky, where your mans
Where your mans, I'ma send him to the sky
I finesse, I finesse, that's yo' b*tch we had sex
We don't call, we don't text
She got down and gave me neck
f*ck her then its to the next, ayy
All I do is flex, ayy
All I do is flex, ayy
All I do is flex
All my n*ggas getting high, we higher than a b*tch
Boy I swear you see that plane, well I'm flyer than that sh*t
I got sh*t you can't pronounce, I got sh*t that's super rich
n*ggas talking hella sh*t until I pop off like a zit, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, boy I'm flexin' in this b*tch, ayy, ayy
You get slammed like its Tekken in this b*tch, ayy, ayy
Boy I swear I be flexin' in this b*tch, ayy, ayy
You get slammed like its Tekken in this b*tch, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Off a Xan in this b*tch ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Hold on, ayy, ayy, ayy
I may f*ck yo b*tch and pass her to my friend
We had a baby in Mercedes so I call her Benz
And all my n*ggas going crazy we be countin' bands
I'm bout to snooze on this b*tch cause I pop a Xan
I got a yellow one, white one, gray one, rainbow
Pull up to the scene, with that sh*t like its Rambo
I swear I got that sh*t for your grand folks
Leave yo ass red on the street like its Elmo
Open you like Sesame, b*tch I got the recipe
I got all these chains, gold grills, call me Master P
Everything is art mother f*cker f*cking masterpiece
n*ggas talking dumb 'til I run up, a catastrophe
I'ma run a check like I'm Usain, ayy
Sick jays on my fleet call them Flu Games, ayy
n*ggas wanna talk stupid till they die today, yeah
Run up in yo crib and make yo momma cry today, ayy
I am too real I could never lie today, ayy, ayy, ayy
I be flexin' in this b*tch, I be flexin', yeah
I can never lie today, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
I be flexin' in this b*tch, I be flexin' in this b*tch, ayy
[...]
That's your b*tch, why she over here?
Make her disappear
Red coat, no Paul Revere, get 'em outta here
I'm the man, ballin' over broad, no Cavalier
And I swear I'm the f*ckin' man, can't you f*ckin' hear?
Yeah, I be zooted in my zone and I can't lie, ayy
Look up in the sky, 'cause I'm that f*ckin' high, ayy
I may f*ck your b*tch, I leave her, then she cry, ayy
Run up and that sh*t like...