Feelin' my Sunday's best
Yeah ayy dressed to impress
Yeah Thank god for the check
Yeah Thank god for the check
Run to the money I ain't break a sweat
She know I can flex and it's weighing my neck
Nothin' to me it's an average bet
Cash on the bed I can make it a mess
Foldin' the sheets like I'm folding the paper
Wavin' that bread like I wave to a hater
That bimmer speed off like I said see ya later
The gang can all eat like I ordered a cater
My get up too clean you can smell the fresh taper
Yeah ayy
My get up too clean you can smell the fresh taper
Yeah ayy
Back on my bullshit again
On the same shit till the end
Winnin' or losing still me and my twin
I think the rims 20s it sit on a Benz
Yeah okay
The loft up in Dallas the traffic just started
Yeah okay
My flight is at 8 and I'm nearly departed
Yeah
I'm living out coast to coast
Smoking out choke to choke
My bitches be doing the most
Hand em all cheese and then go
It ain't nothing for all of the bros
(Yeah Yeah Okay)
It ain't nothin' for all of the bros
Feelin' my Sunday's best
Yeah ayy dressed to impress
Yeah Thank god for the check
Yeah Thank god for the check
Run to the money I ain't break a sweat
She know I can flex and it's weighing my neck
Nothin' to me it's an average bet
Cash on the bed I can make it a mess
Foldin' the sheets like I'm folding the paper
Wavin' that bread like I wave to a hater
That beamer speed off like I said see ya later
The gang can all eat like I ordered a cater
My get up too clean you can smell the fresh taper
Yeah ayy
My get up too clean you can smell the fresh taper
Yeah ayy