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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Len
Rap
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Len
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bwser
Producer
Lyrics
(Ayy, come on, hahahaha)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I got that white boy money, them boots
(Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
I got that white boy money, them boots Bottega
Yeah, you niggas don't make no noise
You ain't on my radar, ayy
The Porsche 911 no roof, screw it
Superstar livin' proof, I am the truth (the truth)
And I ain't gotta prove it, uh (arrg)
Hold on, done a verse for the yute
Next day his bae was lickin' my gooch
Hold on, hold on, uh (arrg)
What's the sitch bitch? (arrg)
Ou you rich, rich? (arrg)
Cartier wrist, sheesh (come on, come on)
Had to link the connect in Moorgate (in Moorgate)
'Cause they rinsed clean in West (in west)
I told him I'm gonna need more ye (more ye)
And the back like Kim Kardash' (Kardash')
Can't keep up when it's Kardash'
One foot out, cameras flash (yes)
VVS diamonds react (chi-ching)
On the phone to Fresh & G-Lo (swipe, swipe)
I said we need two milli and they said we know (two milli)
Man I love my team bro (hol' on)
The streets call me Mr. Put-It-On
And the gyal call me Mr. Put-It-In
I got that white boy money, them boots Bottega
Yeah, you niggas don't make no noise
You ain't on my radar (yes)
The Porsche 911 no roof, screw it (arrg)
Superstar livin' proof, I am the truth (the truth)
And I ain't gotta prove it, uh (gyal dem sugar)
Hold on
Done a verse for the yute, next day his bae was lickin' my
Gyal dem sugar I don't need hinge (woah)
Gyal dem sugar know nothin' 'bout tinder (no way)
I'm in the trap, makin' a drink (no way)
Mirinda, trigger finger make 'em nuh linga (woah, woah, woah, ahh)
She wanna link up, drink up
Shawty gettin' fingered
Tellin' her friends we a thing, nah
Shawty was already wet when I linked her (arrg)
The opps can't get me and that's why they link up
I got that white boy money, them boots Bottega
Yeah, you niggas don't make no noise
You ain't on my radar, ayy
The Porsche 911 no roof, screw it
Superstar livin' proof, I am the truth
And I ain't gotta prove it, uh
Hold on
Done a verse for the yute, next day his bae was lickin' my gooch
I got that white boy money, them boots Bottega
Yeah, you niggas don't make no noise (arrg)
You ain't on my radar, ayy
The Porsche 911 no roof, screw it
Superstar livin' proof, I am the truth
And I ain't gotta prove it, uh
Hold on
Done a verse for the yute, next day his bae was lickin' my gooch
(Hahaha)
Writer(s): Len
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