Oprah & Gayle ft. Lil Wayne & Benny The Butcher Lyrics

Oprah & Gayle ft. Lil Wayne & Benny The Butcher - 2 Chainz

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Collegrove

Checkerboard luggage, Ramen in the cupboard

I left Art Basel with a sculpture

You listening to the lyrical nunchuck chuckle at dumbfucks

Vocals warmed up, beyond Ford tough

I kept my lawn cut, mispell and conduct

I got my arm out the window of an armed truck

It’s Teamster Union when you hear the trucks roll up

On Cleveland Avenue, made plays at the Kroger

Came up on cold cuts, heart got a hole in it, bank got a roll in it

The Cessna Citation came with a pole in it

The Cullinan so big, it need a stove in it

Now that's deep, I just dove in it

The closet came with garage doors

The Goyard is on all fours, I do this shit for encores

I did this shit in Tom Ford, they said I'm wrong for it

I'm so fly, I looked at her and said, "Get on board"

It's the man, it's the myth, in the midst of the mix

With the M's on my mind, in Maui taking pics

Motivated by more, that mean I want more of this

I want more jewelry, more cars, I want more cribs

What you expect from a kid

That grew up with his stomach touching his rib?

Echos coming from out the fridge

My papa was a rolling stone, I thought you knew that

Don't smoke no cig but I'll shoot that, true facts

Nah'mean?

My lighter St. Laurent

Yeah, that St. Laurent fire

You gotta hold your hand midair when you do a verse like this

Yeah

Uh, hoppin’ out or slide out, runnin’ through a walkthrough

Coupe on big wheels like a pony wearin’ horse shoes

Tall money, short fuse, long money, long ooh

Champagne Papi part two, she my corkscrew

Tattoos over war wounds, wrist look like its on Zoom

Neck look like anime or cartoons, art to ‘em

I got the spikes on the Gucci, look like Bart to ‘em

Gimmie the Nikes, lemme add some Comme Des Garcons to ‘em

Stunt man, verses in my lunch bag, rappers on my launch pad

Chopper make ‘em do the Kris Kross or make ‘em jump dance

Lump somes, hump bands

What’s a young man without a check? Just a Jumpman

Fuck that, Jordan meme

I’ma sip some lean, get a ting and go quarantine

I’ma get some bling let it bling like some Oil Sheen

I’ma put some fuckin’ princess cuts on a queen

And I keep all of the chin check stubs I redeem

This our team, my regimen, I’m a higher being

Purple smoke, fire green, sweet ‘n’ sour cream

Peakin’ higher now we towering, peak position

Give my people power, now we power fiends, it’s addiction

Feelin’ like a boxer steppin’ out the ring, you swing, you missin’

Critically thinkin’ ‘bout the critics up in critical condition

I’m in pitiful condition, scratch that but who was itchin’?

Teamsters, the Union did it - Tune and Tity, Young Money, T.R.U. Religion

It's some Teamsters shit

This a Saint Laurent lighter, woo!

I got "stoner-virus," baby

Ho right there, she got "Patron-a-virus," hmm-mm

And ho over there, she wouldn't let me fuck

So now she got "loney-virus", alright

Ayy, stop leasin' niggas

We gotta get that "homeowner-virus" like me

Yo, they was laughin', but we was smart drug trafficking, we was sharks (Uh-huh)

I had to chase the paper down 'til we trapped the money in vaults

Kinda crazy, my last bid was the shortest and she ain't wait for me

Spent half my twenties in prison and aged gracefully

For paper, you know we grind, place a wager and you'll be fine (Uh-huh)

I put my fork down, now every major want me to sign

Left the hood for Hollywood, it wasn't worth being famous (It wasn't worth it)

Where every chick got a Beamer and a personal trainer (Ha-ha)

I'm into business moves, she into Paris fashion (Uh-huh)

It cost me at least twenty grand a year on her hair and lashes

Love I done inherited, music was both of my parents' passion

My name come up when you talkin' dope and comparing classics (Uh-huh, uh-huh)

Stare at me good, 'cause this how pressure look

They want my spot but tryna skip every step I took, I wish 'em the best of luck

I asked a question and he gave me an answer

That still left a nigga confused like Brady in Tampa

Back home, I'm one of the Narcos, semi-autos

Dodge fans like New York City potholes

Yeah, the OGs think that it's funny, money made me more hungry

'Cause majority wait 'til they chubby and then get comfy, nah

Get that first taste then you learn to appreciate

All the risks you gotta take to turn a Ford to a Wraith (Uh-huh)

I'm checkin' in on my hood, like, I hope all is well

I'm still close to my scale, we like Oprah and Gayle

You get a Rollie, you get a Rollie

You get a Rollie! You get a Rollie!

Everybody gets a Rollie!

You get a Rollie, you get a Rollie

You get a Rollie too!

Everybody gets a Rollie!