FLEX Lyrics

I don't see them at the places I be at

Where they at

They ain't ballin' like they postin' up

I promise it's all cap

One, two, three grams in the wood

That's a bat

When I hit it out the park

That bitch never comin' back

I don't get inspired by them boys

What they doin

How you get booked for postin' guns

And never shootin'

You don't catch me in that crowd

Cause I don't fuck with fake movements

Me and the guys can't crash out

A lot of motion, we can't lose it

Who is them

We don't know them

Them boys foolish

Fuck all that talking

You a stepper, come and do it

Walk with some bosses

But I still got some that's ruthless

Stove cookin' up

They gon' show you how to move it

Lowest numbers, they gon' flood it when it drop

Phone buzzin' day and night

Motion never stop

Beam with it glizzy

Fully loaded, pokin' out

Dark skinned woods, light ones

Throw em' out

Hood shit, designer fit

White ones

Youngest runnin' from the cops

They throw the bikes up

There's no smokin' in the function

Chances are we won't come

Don't get reactions

On the net, they're really soft

They never come

Brodie fucked the pot up

Made a big flip, big fish

Turned that bad bitch into a side bitch

Wishlist

Number not stored phone on silent

Who is this

Magnet on the rim

When we ball, we don't miss shit

Too much whips, fall asleep

Don't know which one I'm in

They pat us down at the door

But still we got them in

Don't come around if you don't know me

You not one of them

I call my killers by they first letters

That's B N M

I don't see em' at the places I be at

Where they at

They ain't ballin' like they postin' up

I promise it's all cap

One, two, three grams in the wood

That's a bat

When I hit it out the park

That bitch never comin' back

Crunch time

I been out the way gettin' them racks

Outta reach

I broke up with that bitch

Right through the text

No apologies

Like the money

I get the bread instead

Not as hot as me

Tell yourself that

Get that shit through your head

I been burnin' back to back

My homies on the meds

I'm a hustle

Get this bread forever to the end

I get paid when I sleep

Ask around, there's no pretend

Got a crib by the beach

Private parties with the camp

Just landed in my city

On vacation for like six months

Them niggas hittin' dissin' on the Gram

Tell em' dick up

They comin' all sizes

All sounds

Tell em' pick one

Everywhere I go

They know I alarm the room

Like a stick

I don't see em' at the places I be at

Where they at

They ain't ballin' like they postin' up

I promise it's all cap

One, two, three grams in the wood

That's a bat

When I hit it out the park

That bitch never coming' back