Prada (Remix) lyrics

[Intro: Rich The Kid]
(Space)
Okay, okay
Yeah, we still Rich Forever
Yeah
(The ADHD)

[Chorus: Rich The Kid]
I been wakin' up to racks, b*tch (b*tch)
Quarter milli', need a rack lift
My lil' n*gga let the MAC rip (Chop, chop, chop)
Left a baby on her bottom lip (Lip)
Most of these hoes get hit and get flipped
Most of these n*ggas ain't real, can't trip
Pardon me, bought a Prada fit
Gettin' money, like a lot of it, okay

[Verse 1: Rich The Kid]
Walk through in Egypt with three hundred (Three hundred)
Pull out her bed then I sleep on it (I sleep on it)
Pull out my di*k and she eat on it (Eat on it)
She a lil' freak and she suckin', no teeth on it
I was dead broke, had to sleep on the couch
Pull out the Lamb' with the keys to the house
On the way to your b*tch, had to reroute (Reroute)
And the money keep comin' like f*ck a drought (f*ck it)
Baguettes, baguettes
b*tch see my neck and my wrist and she ready
Pop up on her late night like Freddy
I'ma cut the b*tch off, machete
My lil' n*gga let the MAC rip
Seen a opp, had the whole clip
Think he flexin', but this old drip
I'm tryna buy a brick with poker chips
Blow a bag at Saks, can't go to Barneys (Yeah)
I got too many racks on me (Woo)
I done said that my coupe is retarded (Retarded)
Like damn, I can't even start it, valet can't park it (Damn)
Gettin' more bags than a market (Bags)
Put it on his head, a target
n*gga wan' run with the opps that he thought was the opps
We gon' mop him and chalk him
[Chorus: Rich The Kid]
I been wakin' up to racks, b*tch (Racks, b*tch)
Quarter milli', need a rack lift
My lil' n*gga let the MAC rip
Left a baby on her bottom lip (Lip)
Most of these hoes get hit and get flipped
Most of these n*ggas ain't real, can't trip
Pardon me, bought a Prada fit
Gettin' money, like a lot of it, okay

[Verse 2: Polo G & Rich The Kid]
Uh, spent the lil' bag on these Maison Margielas, walk in the bank, I'm withdrawin' whatever
"Need like a M," what I told to the teller, 'member was trappin' no matter the weather
Talkin' my sh*t 'cause I been doin' better, Glock with a stick, we ain't grippin' Berettas
Them murderers lit, we Too Turnt forever, surgical sh*t, we'll get you together (Uh)
I make a call, them killers en route, we been lampin', it ain't hard to figure you out
Tracy campin' outside of that lil' n*gga house, doin' damage, them hollows keep hittin' his scalp
1300 the gang, and I put us on the map, come and see what my n*ggas about
We don't f*ck with no lames, b*tches don't come to the telly to f*ck, then we kickin' 'em out
But 'cause Polo my name, she do whatever I want, I just put my whole di*k in her mouth
Let that .40 go bang, we put his ass in the grave and they wish they can go dig him out
My lil' n*gga let the Drac' spit, say less, we don't ever say sh*t
Shoot it out, check out my J, b*tch, ballin' on 'em, James Naismith (Ball, ball, ball, ball, ball)

[Chorus: Rich The Kid]
I been wakin' up to racks, b*tch (Racks, b*tch)
Quarter milli', need a rack lift
My lil' n*gga let the MAC rip
Left a baby on her bottom lip (Lip)
Most of these hoes get hit and get flipped
Most of these n*ggas ain't real, can't trip
Pardon me, bought a Prada fit
Gettin' money, like a lot of it, okay
[Outro: Rich The Kid]
Okay, okay, okay