[Intro: Houdini] Oh (uh), oh Hello? Hey, [?] I can't hear you, what'd you say? What's up? Um, I'm just recording right now, I'ma call you right back Okay, call me
[Verse 1: Houdini] They put the racks on the count' up in Cali' If she bring it back, I ain't doin' the dash You put up a half, so just try to be mad at me I could survive, it's just part of the plan And you know I'm ballin' like I'm at the Mattamy In front of the haters, in front of the fans She giving me brain like my place an academy If you need a tape then I need an advance I been in the trap and the buckets keep calling me Man I couldn't lie, I might do it again Wait, you remember them niggas that doubted me? I'm lookin' right through 'em in Cartier lens A round of applause and nigga get clapped I'm thinkin' of ways to get to the bag If I'm in a race, I ain't coming last If he in my way, then he gettin' passed And she a lil' hoe, she fuck for the bag And cro on the road, he on your ass Wrist lookin' like glass More than a brick, more than a shaft Breakin' the piece and I'm crushin' the pack Used to wear the same beat everyday in the trap Used to sell the same bean everyday for bag On the North of the Jane where we keepin' them straps
[Chorus: Houdini] Here it goes, I wanna blow I wanna know what I'm meant to do He took a L, that's how life goes We gonna win, ain't tryna lose I'm in the field, I got nothin' to prove Say he a shooter and ain't even shoot You super cap, you ain't tellin' the truth .223 and FN make a nigga go, "Poof" Here it goes, I wanna blow (Oh) I wanna know what I'm meant to do He took a L, that's how life goes (Oh) We gonna win, ain't tryna lose I'm in the field, I got nothin' to prove (Oh) Say he a shooter and he ain't even shoot You super cap, you ain't tellin' the truth (Oh) .223 and FN make a nigga go, "Poof"
[Verse 2: Tory Lanez] She wanna go, she wanna take it all over the globe I got them shooters movin' like it's Call of Duty 'cause they goin' crazy with the scopes I'm on the road, anybody fuckin' with me, you know they gettin' Peter Roe'd Niggas didn't see me and Houdini Poppin' up on the bitches on the low 'Cause that was my brodie, you niggas dissin' up the crodie You know that I'm clutchin' the 4 Sixty-K, seven, my bitch off the .40, I'm poppin' with denim You know that I got it I'm not a banker to none of my opps But I promise them niggas gon' owe me deposits He go to trip and then chill, check 'em Say he ain't loaded but still check it Houdini my brother, my real bredren I know he watching us stuntin' from heaven All of my watches, they bustin' in heaven Ain't nobody finna run up, I'm steppin' Bitch, I'm in charge, a hundred-and-seven-K large You know I gave tears to the reverend All of the shootings and robberies we do inside of my hood My niggas need repentance Can't buy no Cuban bust down with no pendants They wanna give me 22 the sentence, ayy I told them crackers holler back when they be sober I smoke so much dope that I still feel like I'm sober Balling in these bitches hole like a golfer Bach, bitch, big Rolls with the chauffeur, ah
[Chorus: Houdini] Here it goes, I wanna blow I wanna know what I'm meant to do He took a L, that's how life goes We gonna win, ain't tryna lose I'm in the field, I got nothin' to prove Say he a shooter and ain't even shoot You super cap, you ain't tellin' the truth .223 and FN make a nigga go, "Poof" Here it goes, I wanna blow (Oh) I wanna know what I'm meant to do He took a L, that's how life goes (Oh) We gonna win, ain't tryna lose I'm in the field, I got nothin' to prove (Oh) Say he a shooter and he ain't even shoot You super cap, you ain't tellin' the truth (Oh) .223 and FN make a nigga go, "Poof"Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
