Holy Ghost Lyrics

Church bells ringing

Naw that's the blicky

Slide off with ya nigga

I need a quicky

Put this pussy on his face

call it facial

Pullin on this hair like a bitch biracial

I don't tussle with you hoes send a quick text

Have them niggas at ya door

no footsteps

Beating on my chest like I'm Cesar

Bitch thought she saw the reaper

Like hey it's nice to meet ya

Diamonds get tah clapping like Mercedes on da pole

Bitch I'm always eating

I need these pockets swole

My nigga gotta vibrate higher than these other dudes

Serve these cap ass niggas a plate dog food

If it ain't about da bread bitch you a fool

Stomping on you niggas

Get Nicks crew

Can't waist my time I'm in off season

Put on all white for Virgil it's a reason

I love to swipe it up in Neimans

Let me get the Lil Baby special

The three for one

Flying first class is the goal

But on the private jet that's a different mode

Fucking 40,000 ft in da air

we in halo mode

Gas me up, cereal, I blow big O's

Loubi's on my feet

Ma'am what are those

We rocking next season looks straight off the runway

Don't need no stylist

Drip is in sicko mode

One, two, three that's how the opps click

Four, five load up the chopsticks

Six, seven a bih better pray they go to heaven

Eight, nine, ten where's the reverend

One, two, three that's how the opps click

Four, five load up the chopsticks

Six, seven a bih better pray they go to heaven

Eight, nine, ten where's the reverend

Tag me back in we in fourth quarter

I been dropping these loads off

ya transporter

Gotta pop ya ass like a hot check

This rap shit comes easy my pens wet

Grinding to get my own Patek

Sliding on any bitch with disrespect

Wet you up

Then say a prayer next

Got my foot on they necks

Fuck Fiji

You ever heard of Glacier water

Diamonds froze

This is what we call law and order

Snatched waist, cute face, no sponsor

Rule seven five play with yours before you play with mine

Only five star cuisine

Pass me da lobsta

I go by BB but you call me miss mamas

He loves me I ain't neva with da drama

Throw this ass back let's make a mantra

Get in loser we're going shopping

To blow a bag you can't count

A true Texan I pop my trunk and screw it up

Niggas is bitches too

Put y'all in pot

Seafood is my favorite food

Sprinkle Old Bay & Lemon Butter This song is rude

I don't give a fuck we must address these rules

Ya, ya, ya, ya

One, two, three that's how the opps click

Four, five load up the chopsticks

Six, seven a bih better pray they go to heaven

Eight, nine, ten where's the reverend