I'm Tippin' ft. Queen V Lyrics

Yeah

Still tippin' on these hoes, on 44s, I feel like Mike Jones

I feel like Paul Wall, bitch

Bitch I'm tippin'

I ain't got no opps cause if I did, they wouldn't be living

Addicted to that money, got my palms steady itching

Palms Angels jogging suit, got a nigga dripping

Bitch I'm still tippin'

Bitch I'm tippin'

She wanna be my bitch, I told the hoe she gotta listen

Now I got her naked, cooking breakfast in the kitchen

Grab a pint, grab a sprite, then I get to mixing

Bitch I'm still tippin'

Bitch I been counting commas, toting llamas, fucking niggas baby mommas

Niggas see me, tuck they tails, cause they don't want no problems

Racks bussing out my jeans, shit can't fit in no wallet

Hit yo bitch then give her back, nigga that's yo problem

Hung up on my bitch, cause I had a play hit me

Brodie got them birds in like he a Chick-fil-A with it

Just like the letter after J, just know I keep a K with me

She can come to get some dick, but she cannot stay with me

Made some bands by my lonely, rest in peace to Speaker Knockerz

Don't play with me, like a bad habit, I'll drop em

2018, I was trapping out my mamas

What I sold for a bow, cost some Gucci and some Prada

Got the Rollie plain Jane, but the bitch I'm with a bust down

Swear I need a Super Bowl ring, when I touchdown

Said I need a PT of that wocky when I come around

Stand up nigga, watch I make you sit the fuck down

Bitch I'm tippin'

I ain't got no opps cause if I did, they wouldn't be living

Addicted to that money, got my palms steady itching

Palms Angels jogging suit, got a nigga dripping

Bitch I'm still tippin'

Bitch I'm tippin'

She wanna be my bitch, I told the hoe she gotta listen

Now I got her naked, cooking breakfast in the kitchen

Grab a pint, grab a sprite, then I get to mixing

Bitch I'm still tippin'

I'm like Stephen but no Curry, I been balling on you niggas

I been running up a bag, I can't relax, I'm chasing figures

Just me and my niggas, to pull up on you in a 4-door

And you know we strapped, so please, no photos

If you bout that life, then get the fuck up in the car hoe

I'm flexing on these niggas, call me Tommy, way that chopper sing

Bound to catch a body on the news, Judge Mabelean

And you know who it is, bitch it's Ken and it's fucking queen

Back in shit again, call it river dance

Got them niggas sweet, baby boy I call him cinnamon

He the fucking middle man like who the fuck you telling then

Tell him, gotta jump his ass if he tryna fit in

Charge his a fee, baby boy just to sit in

He like the Jordan 3s, on a waitlist just to get in

To get a picture with a thick bitch, who a catfish, who's plastic

Man that's tragic, bitch I make it happen cause

I'm tippin'

I ain't got no opps cause if I did, they wouldn't be living

Addicted to that money, got my palms steady itching

Palms Angels jogging suit, got a nigga dripping

Bitch I'm still tippin'

Bitch I'm tippin'

She wanna be my bitch, I told the hoe she gotta listen

Now I got her naked, cooking breakfast in the kitchen

Grab a pint, grab a sprite, then I get to mixing

Bitch I'm still tippin'