Fast Cars ft. Yung Grady Lyrics

Aye, fast cars, hold on

Hold on

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Foreign car, no top, drop top, new watch

Whole squad, iced up

Whole gang, blicked up

Two tone, sticked up

Bad bitch, dicked up

New hair, wigged up

New cars, keyed up

Got chips, no gauc

Got cheese, no steak

Got leaves, no rake

Fuck bitches, don't date

Bad bitch, on delay

Hurry up, give me brain

Whipping bitches, whipping cars, NASCARs, fast cars

No breaks, too fast, just crashed, got money

Big bags, got gas, big stash

New phone, who this

New gun, who next

Big stripes, big checks

New ice, cold neck

Yung Grady up next

Damn we up next, I can't say the same for them

Since them blues and 50s, yeah, we always carry Benjamins

Off the x, gonna float, thought its sink or swim

Lil Shottz, yeah his money tall he almost touch the rim

And you know that thats my bro and we gone always fucking win

He my boy in the stu, broke boy who are you

Broke boy, food stamps, no money, missed rent (Broke as fuck)

Clear view, no tent, got the fire, no pit

No aim, can't hit, come ride the way, free pass

Your bitch, no ass

Your wallet, no cash

Your blunt, no gas

Ronda Rousey kicking shit, hollow tips big as shit

Set him up, hit a lick

I've ran it up but never raced

Linked with bitches, never date

I like her body, not her face

Fat bitch, overweight

Got the ice but never skate

Ran it up, stayed in my lane

Stayed in my lane but I passed him on that yellow line

You see that big ass Tonka truck and you can tell its mine

Go to jail for my bro and I won't testify (Never)

Yeah I did the crime I carry on that fucking nine

I scammed the label for a milly cause I did not sign (Fuck that bitch)

Then we going on a two man and we pulling dimes

Like the NFL we running forties at the fastest time

You ain't get a bag so why you hating, why you cap on mine

Hopping out the window, pulling up and then I let off five

Yeah he paralyzed, so I'ma walk on him

Yeah my ex gone keep on calling on some toxic shit (Fuck that bitch)

And we fucking pouring Sprite, this ain't Sierra Mist (Damn)

And yeah we popping off the cap and then we go and twist

Yeah, thats my twizz

Yeah we going to the army, we gone go enlist

Yeah, write it off the checklist

Yeah you know we next bitch

Diamonds on my neckless and we tripping off the x bitch (Okay)

Fast cars, no breaks, press the gas (Fast)

3 A.M. pull up on me, shaking ass

Pour that lean up in the bottle, yeah its not a flask (Pour that shit)

And we going on a mission and we got a task

Wife beater with a ski mask on

Cole Myer said to keep on going

If they doubt I gotta show them

Selling mid and we is open

Me and Shottz we fucking goated

Going up we got promoted

It's my campaign, I got voted

We come back then we go ghost