VIRAL ft. Codeine Chriss Lyrics

Yeah

It’s Codeine Chriss, the real one, not the fake one

On sauce… Ouu

Pockets stay on swole, Gucci my cologne

If I pop out in the summer with my jewelry, it get cold

I’m takin’ puff bars to the dome

Pull up in that G-Wagon, I take your bitches home

Don’t you player hate, that’s cold

We goin’ viral every night

I just took that walkie-talka then I poured it in the sprite

You can catch me at the game, I got the floor seats like I’m Spike

Spent a couple thousand dollars at the Gucci store last night

Double back today, that’s light

I be off it

I done spent 200K on lean, that’s what it cost me

Catching all these plays, they all touchdowns, I Randy Moss’d it

I ain’t even had no clicks, I did it Gucci floppin’

Down but I still keep the racks up in my Louis wallet

Pockets stay on swole, Gucci my cologne

If I pop out in the summer with my jewelry, it get cold

I’m takin’ puff bars to the dome

Pull up in that G-Wagon, I take your bitches home

Don’t you player hate, that’s cold

Pockets stay on swole, Gucci my cologne

If I pop out in the summer with my jewelry, it get cold

I’m takin’ puff bars to the dome

Pull up in that G-Wagon, I take your bitches home

Don’t you player hate, that’s cold

Then I pop up in this bitch like I’m Chris Hansen

Lil’ bro bought a mansion

Every bitch that walk up in here dancing

Probably getting naked

We keep poles in case you trippin’

And for them bitches that’s dancing

You want smoke, we giving out cancer

I keep percs the size of moons

And yellow buses, no schools

We keep chops the size of brooms

But we ain’t cleaning no rooms

Way ahead of y’all

Real one, not the fake one, don’t do Fentanyl

That’s yo’ girl

When I seen that bitch, I got that neck and all

Pockets stay on swole, Gucci my cologne

If I pop out in the summer with my jewelry, it get cold

I’m takin’ puff bars to the dome

Pull up in that G-Wagon, I take your bitches home

Don’t you player hate, that’s cold

Pockets stay on swole, Gucci my cologne

If I pop out in the summer with my jewelry, it get cold

I’m takin’ puff bars to the dome

Pull up in that G-Wagon, I take your bitches home

Don’t you player hate, that’s cold