Weight Up ft. Swifty Blue & Chris Coke Lyrics

I'm on my way up

I got my weight up

Need that money right now I can't wait up

Time to pay up

Don't get sprayed up

All the bros locked down Homies stay up

I send a kite to the yard you get filet up

Goin hard no cap that's straight up

Who wanna say what

Run that fade up

You ain't from the set that shit's made up

Let that blower go

You get ate up

No love for the opps the murder rate up

Leave your section with all that yellow tape up

Don't get chalked out you better wake up

On my way up

I done came up

I done bossed up all them hoes I tossed up

Don't get socked out

I'm strapped up when I pop out

I'ma walk em down Bitch I'ma hop out

I'm Known for all the headshots I'm known for all the knockouts

South side 187 on a drop out

Gun shots duck down better watch out

I'ma air em out me I'ma show out

I'm from paramount bitch what you know about

I do it for the gang you can die for the clout

He ran his mouth so I popped him in his mouth

He from the north but he bangin in the south

The blue rag I'ma show em what it's bout

I keep a yop I keep a chop at the house

I do my thuggie drop bodies and bounce

And you a druggie bitch we know what you about

Tuck your tails when you down in the south

I stand on business bitch you know what I'm bout

I'm the plug that got rich in the drought

Illuminati like I joined the paper route

I'm on my way up

I got my weight up

Need that money right now I can't wait up

Time to pay up

Don't get sprayed up

All the bros locked down

Homies stay up

I'm on my way up

I got my weight up

Need that money right now I can't wait up

Time to pay up

Don't get sprayed up

All the bros locked down

Homies stay up

From a hood that throw fades and shoot shit

True shit fentanyl selling with blue strips

Ruth's Chris coming out the with paper plates

Monte Carlo super sport it's a 88

How much can I make today

You in the field put yo cleats down

I'm known for chin checkin an them beat downs

They be on they best behavior Everytime they see that we round

I spot em told the homie lean back put yo seat down

32 up on my back that's a mothafuckin fact

Most em mothafuckas dead so ain't no way to run it back

If it's coming gift wrapped how the fuck you fumble that

With a switch pro club up under that who is that Ya

Trap house legend he a crack rock seller

I'ma head shot shooter homie ain't no tellin

They call him Chris coke but the bitches say perico

In a regal and I'm bumping chalino

What the Fuck