We Go Up (Remix) lyrics

[Intro]
(O mój Boże, ale dojebałem bit)
(Swizzy na bicie, ziomal)
You know I took—, I took some time off (Papi Yerr)
And you know, b*tches is not seein' me, you thot

[Verse]
We pull up on the opps and them b*tches gon' hide like they lace, they ain't comin' outside
And we don't need no Siri, we already knowin' where these motherf*ckers reside
Shoot a n*gga on IG live, yeah, that n*gga soul goin' straight to Dubai
And it's only one reason why
[?] (Baow)
n*gga done took the bait
I run up on a n*gga like, "What's the hate?" (Ah)
Tell a n*gga straight to his f*ckin' face
"Your chain look fake, n*gga, is it cake?" (Ah, ah)
That's some sh*t I wouldn't take
One good blow, that sh*t'll break
Kim K walkin' in Balenciaga
[?] wrapped with the yellow tape (Baow, baow)
Gang, gang, gang, we go up, ayy
b*tch got a problem, we show up
I thought I told this n*gga, "Get lost"
[?] lookin' at him like, "What's the hold up?" (Ah)
Went from a shampoo girl, now washin' these hoes, that's one hell of a glow up (You know)
Let me go to the gym and just get my head straight
Stomp a b*tch out when I skip leg day
I don't give a f*ck about you, lil' fella
That pus*y ran through like Coachella (Hahaha)
Stop draggin' these b*tches? That's never
Call her Rue, she gettin' drilled forever (Ah, ah)
Took her man then made that man come sit that money on the muhf*ckin' dresser
He bought me a wedding band but it ain't on my hand [?]
Never miss when I beat that ho
Upside her head, I play Connect 4
Hope and pray she got a back door
Brrata, that sh*t gon' blow
All these hoes be so damn broke
Walk down on 'em, I stay on go
Think sh*t sweet, I'll split her teeth
Now got more rooms than an exit room (Baow)
Watch how I load up the semi
I'm countin' up money, it's so many Benjis
I'm up in some Fendi but they can't offend me
When they in designer, it's not the real thingy (Goddamn)
[?]
These hoes is some bums and they throat is a chimney
This dumb b*tch will swallow this whole round
Found me a n*gga [?]
I can't [?]
Claim you the biggest, well, b*tch, I feel bigger
You got the Glock but you not a real killer
Look like my finger be doin' the j*rk when I'm pullin' it back on that muhf*ckin' trigger (Ah, ah, ah)
I'm independent but, yeah, I'm that n*gga
I don't split checks so these b*tches is bitter
I'm over that casket, feelin' fantastic
Sprinkling roses with Salt Bae rhythm (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
[Outro]
Baow, baow, baow, baow