Celine Lyrics

Why you still callin' my phone?

Don't you see I'm gettin' chicken?

Why won't you leave me alone?

Is you mad that you not winnin'?

Oh lord, please don't be a victim

Run- Run down, you gettin' popped

I just took a- and I'm off of the wock'

That lil' bitch so chopped

She still let me beat up her box though

But I won't beat up the box

I just might spin in a Tahoe

I just might spin on the opps

I'm goin' up and nobody could stop

I'm goin' up, like some motherfuckin' stocks

I got a Glock in my motherfuckin' sock

So if you try run down, you gettin' flocked

I gotta go, bitch, look at the time, bitch, look at the clock

I'mma fuck her and her friend in a Cullinan

Just let me finish countin', man

I get the guap and I put it in duffle's, man

Then I triple, and double it

Then I go with your bitch to the back of the room

But she suckin' my dick, she not fuckin' me

She want Celine, but she not gettin' shit, 'cause she not my girl

Baby, c'mere, do a lil' spin, do a lil' twirl, I'll give you them pearls

I told the bitch how she different

She not like them girls, I'll give you the world

I asked the bitch, and she wit' it

Red dot, aim it right there at his fitted

Yeah, I bought a new coupe, windows tinted

I'm goin' up, you know I'm committed

Fuck with me, and shit get wicked

I fucked her once, now that bitch, she addicted

And yes, little girl, this a gift, bitch

She on the floor, tryna see what this dick did

I would fuck witchu, but you twisted

Now she on me, tryna feel on my dick print

God damn, you a fan

Why you playin'?

Why you hatin'?

Can't fuck with haters, yeah, they be some haters

On my money grind, bitch, I'm gettin' paper

On my money grind, bitch, I'm gettin'- bitch, I'm gettin' paper