Hit My Cell Back ft. K-Rich, Okdeazy & Rick Ross Lyrics

PRIV

Here comes a new challenger

Commence primary ignition

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Alexander McQueen, number 9 my jeans

3,000 on my fit, woah, Gucci on my earlobes

Blowing up my phone, yeah, hit my cell back

Counting up racks, yeah, counting up racks

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hundred stacks on the watch, hundred blocks on the dot

Ricky Ross, new whip, tennis shoes and the socks

I'm up in Secret City, yeah, that boy got that bling on

You better hit the phone them bricks selling like ringtones

I'm stepping out fresh, I'm stepping out clean

My nigga young mob the boy D.P.C.

When I'm up in the D, we gon' stunt like a dawg

My niggas dropped out of school, but we subject to ball

Don't worry bout the crackers, 'cause the crackers ain't sharp

How I'm looking in the phantom, bitch, you know that I'm the mob

See the grill in the front, might get the feeling to flaunt

Look how you feeling, Ricky Ross, I get a million a month

So mob, so mob, how I get it, so mob

Pulling up to the trap fresh off a blow job

Yeah them thousand dollar jeans, pussy nigga tell that

If you waiting on the side, boy just hit my cell back

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Alexander McQueen, number 9 my jeans

3,000 on my fit, woah, Gucci on my earlobes

Blowing up my phone, yeah, hit my cell back

Counting up racks, yeah, counting up racks

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

I was just in NYC, flew back to the trap

Took a trip to get like this, I went to hell and back

I'm a Lone Ranger so I keep that nina in my bag

Fucked that bitch she got attached

I get dressed and gotta blast

Bitch, we first and never last

niggas act like we ain't in this shit

Diors on my feet I only rock that real expensive shit

Your bitch talking to me, nigga why you mad? I ain't even hit the bitch

He dropped some shit last week, that shit was trash, I told his ass to quit

Mmm, they turn me up I can't hold back

I'm on they ass for all the times that niggas turned they head and counted me out

Mmm, in all my raps I tell no lies

I really trapped, I was outside

A quiet storm, I had to work in the drought

Now they on my jag, now they hit me back

Been had that shit niggas was sleeping on, would you take a look at that

Now I walk around with cash, I can see why niggas mad

Still got numbers on them Ps, bitch, just him my cell back

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Alexander McQueen, number 9 my jeans

3,000 on my fit, woah, Gucci on my earlobes

Blowing up my phone, yeah, hit my cell back

Counting up racks, yeah, counting up racks

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah

Hit my cell back, yeah