Flight to NY Lyrics

Gotta get money, that shit never stopping, I put that shit right on my gang (Yeah)

Dressed in all black like Batman, bro he be robbing, man where the fuck Bane (Bitch)

Don't try to hang 'round me, don't try to come with us, lil' bitch I know you a lame (Nah)

I get my money, lil' bitch I just run it up, hell nah we is not the same (Yeah)

I took a flight to New York now I'm chilling with Martin, we finna go party, okay

I spent yo rent on my motherfucking glasses, they Cartis and jeans they from Marni Okay

Other jeans they is from Endless they made just by Bari, I'm flexing not sorry, okay

Up in the whip finna look at the ceiling, it's starry, no this ain't Ferrari, no way

Up in that Range Rove

We finna go every place that you can't go

Aim chops at a tango, uh

Hitting the gas in a SRT 'rango

Too much drip need a raincoat, uh

I'm up, you down bad, we is not in the same boat

I could not waste my time on a lame hoe

I drop hits then I lay low

Bro pouring that mud, yeah RIP Fredo (Mud, mud)

Bitch got good brain, she the daughter of Plato

Big ass AR, no this bitch not a draco

Talking that shit but what the fuck they know

Talking that shit, he end up with a halo

You get no money, man, you must hate dough

Fuck is you on lil' bitch

Answer quick like you up on a game show

But is this a game? No

Chilling with my gang, hoe

Yeah I'm with the same bros

We got floor seats, you up in the eighth row

Shitting on opps, they call me a a-hole

CDG on but do we play? No

In SRT and my gang in a Range Rove

Say that you hard, man, if you say so

I don't really think so though, you trash as hell

Run up on me get the fastest L

Bars they is magical, cast a spell

Beat was turnt so I add a bell

Party was lit so I had to yell

Finna be champ, finna grab the belt

Did this on my own, I ain't ask for help

They see me up and they mad as hell

Yeah, already up, I ain't stopping yet

Cop a new Trackhawk, don't wanna cop the 'vette

Song a hit, I ain't even drop it yet

Send the location, pin he finna drop it, bet

Take a minute, just stop and flex

All headshots so bitch don't cop a vest

Too much drip, okay, it's sopping wet

I won't stop 'cause mill' I don't got it yet

Yeah, finna have that shit soon, for sure

Work for what you want, then it's yours

My money tall, yo money on dwarf

My money tall, yo shit is too short

You talking hot but that shit sound too forced

You finna get smoked, I ain't talking no Newport

Left Michigan, took a flight to New York

I took a flight to New York now I'm chilling with Martin, we finna go party, okay

I spent yo rent on my motherfucking glasses, they Cartis and jeans they from Marni Okay

Other jeans they is from Endless they made just by Bari, I'm flexing not sorry, okay

Up in the whip finna look at the ceiling, it's starry, no this ain't Ferrari, no way

Up in New York, finna turn up

SRT tires on me, finna burn up

Yeah, lil' bitch you just burnt out

You dropped a song? Shit I ain't heard 'bout

Feel like Lil Baby, lil' bitch, it's my turn now

Used to simp for that bitch but that bitch getting curved now

Run up my money as high as my sperm count

Park that SRT right on the curb now

We too up lil' bitch, cant turn down

Dropping songs give a fuck 'bout a turnout

Got my money up, bitch, I splurge now

You ain't move ten feet, it's already third down

Ain't know how to snap, I had to learn how

Abs on me and I don't even work out

SRT, yeah, we finna swerve out

Used to be down bad got 'lenci my shirt now