Bottega ft. A Million Grams Lyrics

My bitch don't rock no Vicky secret, she want new Bottega

And I can't trip out on no bitch, I keep shit two-player

I'm on this mission by myself, this here a one player

My bitch hair real, she don't need no extension

These knots in my pocket, can't pull up my britches

My watch it glisten, my time expensive

Pull the rim down, dunking shit miles bridges

Free all my guys, eating time inside dem prison

Do you want the fame, or the money, which is it

I had a 20 ball, stuffed in my kitchen

Pay the little tab, little nigga fuck pitchin

Bitch can't talk to me, more than she listen

Nigga can't stop till I finish my mission

Had to push start da caddy just to cool that bitch off

Voice activate the navi while I drop this bitch off

Triple wrapped the package before I sent that bitch off

Did that shit a couple times, up the carats in the cross

I'm in the middle of the trenches, handling some business

Glizzy with the switches, serving niggas through them fences

Got some bad bitches twerking, niggas say I'm tweaking

Want it all if it's decent, BNB for the weekend

Drop a band on some loafs, that's 500 a step

I ain't tripping on no ho, my new piece rose gold

Smoking cookie out the bowls, sticking to the codes

Running through them loads, while I'm fucking up these pros

On some paid in full shit, unky like Sonny

So I'm guessing more like Mitch, heavy on the drip

Only thing I hate is running out of rubber bands

Nigga, it's a million fucking grams

My bitch don't rock no Vicky secret, she want new Bottega

And I can't trip out on no bitch, I keep shit two-player

I'm on this mission by myself, this here a one player

My bitch hair real, she don't need no extension

These knots in my pocket, can't pull up my britches

My watch it glisten, my time expensive

Pull the rim down, dunking shit miles bridges

Free all my guys, eating time inside dem prisons

Do you want the fame, or the money, which is it

I had a 20 ball, stuffed in my kitchen

Pay the little tab, little nigga fuck pitchin

Bitch can't talk to me, more than she listen

Nigga can't stop till I finish my mission

Who you know? Respect my mind

Money make the world go round, and round

I love da way you shake this shit up and down

You fucking with a boss, now she like how that sound

I get that bitch alone with me, I pipe that shit down

Everybody tryna do what's best for them

I just wanna stand out from the crowd, fuck the rest of them

These niggas swear they fake as hell like a wrestler

Swiss movement in the Rollie, thought that shit electric

Don't clap, my turn, charged up like a Tesla is

My business, never change, fuck bout what the next one, get real life

Everyday, I ain't with no extra shit, don't switch the tags

My hitter will, you know that they gon' track that shit

My bitch don't rock no Vicky secret, she want new Bottega

And I can't trip out on no bitch, I keep shit two-player

I'm on this mission by myself, this here a one player

My bitch hair real, she don't need no extension

These knots in my pocket, can't pull up my britches

My watch it glisten, my time expensive

Pull the rim down, dunking shit miles bridges

Free all my guys, eating time inside dem prison

Do you want the fame, or the money, which is it

I had a 20 ball, stuffed in my kitchen

Pay the little tab, little nigga fuck pitchin

Bitch can't talk to me, more than she listen

Nigga can't stop till I finish my mission