Hit the Dash Lyrics

Damn, Donny made this

Paid a thousand for my fit, bitch this drip insane

Hit the dash in the SRT, I'm switching lanes

Flexing cash when I walk through, had yo bitch amazed

I don't know why lil' bro trying to rap, he ain't got shit to say

You might get some bags but I get more, at a faster pace

Why the fuck you talking about blicks, you ain't got a strap to spray

Bro was talking crazy, went out like a bitch, yeah, it's sad to say

Ain't no snapback or no fitted, ain't no cap today

Hold on I, need a couple thousand just to walk through

Finna block yo number ain't no lames that I talk to

I ain't even get lil' bro whacked yet but I ought to

I really fuck with lencis so I copped two

I might drop 50 or 100 then I drop you

The crowd don't move when you perform, we make the spot move

Why the fuck you talking, asking questions like the cops do

Why the fuck I chase this bag, 'cause I got to

How the fuck I make yo salary in two weeks, bitch you thirty three

Bitch I kill any fucking beat first, second, third degree

Yo bitch is my number one fan, how you ain't heard of me

I blow my racks fast 'cause saving 'em really burden me

In this fucking Track, hit the gas then I burn the streets

Lil bro just snapped I said bet it's my turn to eat

I'ma beat the case, give a fuck 'bout the attorney fee

He be talking shit but he a pussy, it don't worry me

Bitch I just stay focused, eyes open like it burns to blink

Bro got mud up in his cup, yeah, he sipping a dirty drink

Lil' bro is a motherfucking fiend, popping like thirty pinks

Bitch I got the drip, don't let it drain like a sturdy sink

Hold on, I might take a motherfucking plane out to Dubai

I don't fuck with you 'cause you a lame and you lie

Bitch I'ma blow up and get the fame in due time

Play about my money or my gang then you die

Play about my fucking gang you a dumbass

Why the fuck you talking about cash, you don't touch racks

Lil' bro said he more up than me but that's such cap

Bitch I eat beats everyday and I won't cut back

That bitch is a thot and she lying, why you cuff that

If you need a verse need couple hundred, shit, plus tax

Bitch I done made a fucking killing off of drum taps

Chop make his lil' ass do the dash, make him run laps

Why I'm gon' get that bag, 'cause I'm determined

I had a SRT before I had a permit

New tires on the SRT, I'm finna burn it

Bitch we bring the heat, got me feeling like a furnace

Bitch I spend at least a couple thousand when I purchase

If you need fire on a feature, I'm at your service

Copped the SRT, couple years I'll need a Urus

Opportunity to get that bag, I run to it, I ain't nervous

He be nervous as hell, I heard his palms sweaty

18, finna touch a hundred, yeah, already

Y'all soft as hell, yeah, y'all the ones we call teddy

Bitch I'm eating gourmet food whenever Paul ready

Bro a chef in the kitchen, other bro chef with the beats

A+ all days if it's a test, I complete

Bro only aiming for the head so vest obsolete

They taking shit under they breath, they all opps to me

Bitch I know I'm at my best, ain't no stopping me

Why this hoe trying to kick it with me, ain't the soccer team

Bitch got good brain like she the daughter of Socrates

Bitch I touch paper all day, like I'm chopping trees

I always talk shit, if you my opp you better off blocking me

Bout to get hella rich then ima cop some properties

You finally hit ten racks, that shit ain't a lot to me

I just hit Somerset, we going on a shopping spree