No Rollie ft. Casha Lyrics

I'm up before the sun with my son in the mornin'

I'm up before the sun with my son in the mornin'

Cook him breakfast, pour some organic orange

I'm off that HuslTree so you know that I'm soarin'

Ridin' round the town like I don't know where I'm goin', uh

I got a chain & it's golden

Got a bad bitch with a little itty bitty frame that I'm moldin'

You a lame & she know it

That's why everytime you linkin' up with her she be drainin' your tokens

Catch me rollin' up that Bernie-Hana & it's blowin'

We be pourin' rosé by the cup, keep it flowin'

Only Moët just because that other shit is not it

You lookin' for a joog, guaranteed that Hus got it

Big profit, blue hunnids fallin' out my pocket

Can't knock it, bouta take off, long live the last rocket

Big bossin', game got your bitch wetter than a faucet

No losses, anything get in my way then I'm a off it, uh

No rollie on my wrist, on my wrist

Gold chain, white tee for the fit

They be hatin', talkin' down on the click

But my game laced so I never trip

And my eyes bloodshot from the zip

But these hunnids all blue like a crip

No rollie on my wrist, on my wrist

Gold chain, white tee for the fit

I slide through in that brand new shit

I don't know dude, nigga, we ain't cool bitch

Yea the only friend I got is these mothafuckin' dolla's

Don't do the new friends, I don't want no new boppa's

I got this boppa on my line cuz I'm popping' like my collar

And this nina on my lap in case a nigga want a problem

Man I been a troubled child ever since I was a toddler

Mama on dope, I was thuggin' in the foster

I ain't worried bout that bitch, there's hella bitches on the roster

Nina glock got that beam on it when I pop ya

Bread Mob we some real life mobsters

We probably the niggas behind the banga who shot ya, aye

I keep it with me, tell the opps I don't get picky, uh

Blowin' on sticky with a bad bitch with me, uh

Aye I'm too player for that broke bitch

I done ran up 10 bands off a hoe bitch

No rollie on my wrist, on my wrist

Gold chain, white tee for the fit

They be hatin', talkin' down on the click

But my game laced so I never trip

And my eyes bloodshot from the zip

But these hunnids all blue like a crip

No rollie on my wrist, on my wrist

Gold chain, white tee for the fit

She fuckin' wit the team cuz she know we on

She know we all about the cheese like the provolone

See-through lingerie, gon' & throw it on

When we done, no offense, but you goin' home

Cuz I'm back on a mission, racks in my vision

I'm solo cuz everybody rat, they be snitchin'

You see how Gunna did Thugga like a real sucka?

I could tell it's fake love cuz I feel nuffa

Fuck a shady broad, no I can't trust her

If you lazy then get off my line, I can't touch ya

I'm the playa made exotic strain puffer

Blue hunnid dollar bill rubber band stuffer

No rollie on my wrist, on my wrist

Gold chain, white tee for the fit

They be hatin', talkin' down on the click

But my game laced so I never trip

And my eyes bloodshot from the zip

But these hunnids all blue like a crip

No rollie on my wrist, on my wrist

Gold chain, white tee for the fit