​magic! lyrics

[Chorus: 8percent]
Lil' b*tch, I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' b*tch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-f*ckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that sh*t
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, b*tch? Leave a b*tch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss
I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' b*tch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-f*ckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that sh*t
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, b*tch? Leave a b*tch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss

[Verse 1: Astrus*]
How you got Gucci but ain't got no whip?
'Bout to buy another car just in case I wanna switch
I got mortgage, I don't really do rent
And I'm blowin' on gas that'll make you spin
It go sex, music, then I go shop a bit
Two Glocks, boy, don't go startin' sh*t
Bad b*tches, you know they tappin' in
All black fit then throw some Rick in it
Model 3 and I got yo' b*tch in it (Skrrt)
Tell her that I don't do questionin' (Nah)
Dropped out with this black Dior letterman
I don't really do much, baby, I just rap a bit (Huh, huh, huh, huh)
Boy, wake up and get to yo' job
Big body parked in the garage
New girl, ass on Nicki Minaj
When I get on TV, I'm shoutin' out my dogs, like, ha
[Pre-Chorus: 8percent]
Lil' b*tch, I'm swaggin', what's happenin-nin'?
Make yo' b*tch disappear like ma-a-a-a, like-like
I'm just countin' all these racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-f*ckin' up sacks, fu-fu-f*ckin' up, f*ckin' up

[Chorus: 8percent]
Lil' b*tch, I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' b*tch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-f*ckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that sh*t
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, b*tch? Leave a b*tch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss (Skrrt)

[Verse 2: Ciscaux]
I like my b*tches brown like bourbon (Yes, Sir)
Remember had no homework turned in (For real)
Nowadays get more money than a surgeon (Ayy, chi-ching)
Big, big racks in an all black suburban (Chi-ching)
Get money two ways, digital, physical (Go)
Yeah, they gon' hate but it's only subliminal (b*tch)
Yeah, I might flex but I keep it to minimal (Go, go, go, go, go, go)
Heard what they dropping and that sh*t is pitiful (Ayy)
Relax, I got a bag on the way
Hit sacks (Woo), put about a thou' on my waist
Get back (Yeah), boy, this a million dollar face
And a priceless smile like my momma say (Ayy)
If looks could kill, I'd leave these b*tches in a hearse
I smell like the 15th and look like the 1st
My b*tch so proud of me but Chanel her purse (No)
They try to copy me, but this ain't rehearsed (b*tch)
[Verse 3: Wassup Rocker]
I push her nerves to the maximum
I used to ride in the back of a Maxima
Usually I don't talk sh*t but I'm mad as f*ck
Divide the splits with my friends and we add it up
Everything I do, I do it twice
Everything I do, I do it nice
Buy a zip and blow it all night
My b*tch is just like me, we look alike, like, ah
We live our lives like some bachelors, duh
I get my bag like its Postmates, duh
I'm still recovering, it's okay, uh
Im in the band like its Coldplay, uh

[Chorus: 8percent]
Lil' b*tch, I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' b*tch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-f*ckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that sh*t
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, b*tch? Leave a b*tch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss