Under City Lights ft. Spade, Rickey P. Flair & Bimpgod Lyrics

Dear God, make me a bird

So I can fly far, far away from here

See I been laying dormant for a while, nigga

Just had a child

So I figured I'd buy some toys

And bring them out this year

Let's make it clear, I'm hear for the money

So when you see me

Say there go that nigga Rick Slick Diggly about his billies

God make me a man of my word

I told him I'm make a milli

Need to ask about a nigga, just tell him I'm sitting pretty

Off a sore, for the O

Or two eighths for the flat

Under these Dallas lights

I lift two eights on my back

I'll be gone, on the road

By the eighth, I'll be back

I met my nigga at the store

And put two eighths in a sack

Let me slab down the Ave

In that Champagne Jag

Them haters looking mad

Let that champagne splash

They realize it's a fact that I am better

And everybody know I'm fly

Bitch, this is lamb leather

Just as fresh as clever

Young forever, holler Rufio

Now I'm in the A, with ones like I'm Julio

Yeah, the girls in the club show me love

Shaking that ass in the cut, nigga what

If it's foreign to me

I explore and I see

Foreign currency, I exchange for the free

I could change up the key

Ain't no playing with me

Only equality, that's what I'm a see

I'm getting paid for the shit I would've did for free

But it's foreign to me, so I explore and I see

I could change up the V

Private jet, change up the sea

Scenery, shit so real to me

Plenty real with me

In the field with me

It's a drill to me

It's so real to see, yeah

It's so real to see, yeah

It's too real to me, yeah

Under the city lights