Rollie - Shawn Chrystopher, Iceman

Yeah

Taking everything from the top

WAV

We in here getting everything they said we couldn’t have

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel

I drink champagne for breakfast

Have champagne for brunch

Take a nap in my office

Then stunt on niggas for lunch

No I do not need much

Just gold bottles, gold models, gold chains

A Ferrari that be switching lanes, and a pinky ring

I’m a pimp by relation

You’s a ho by relationship

Spending all that time chasing that dame

Boy that make me sick

I stack so much bread

That they call me Wonder

Nigga I need a new passport

For all the time spent down under

Yeah, she come like she running late

I eat that bitch up like a dinner date

So much Pinot I ain’t thinking straight

Waiting on me to fall like the summer late

I be balling long distance in other states

Put up numbers like I rock the number eight

And white bitches love me like summer lakes

And my shooter next to me like running mates

I’m flipping numbers like Uno

I’m the realest nigga you know

So Rodger that, nigga 10−4

Pull up with the pipe loud

But you know I got the tint low

Driveway looking like a Benz show

You be in a rental

Still live at home cause your rent low

Nigga I be with the gold grills, and the black hat

With my brim low, learned that from the OG’s

Niggas stay stacking Rollies

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel

Grind to the max

Fuck paying tax

I told my bitch I’ll be back when I’m back

I’m spitting on wax, stacking my racks

Thirty-eight right in my waist when I rap

Don’t trip Jack, I’m Slater no Zach

Got saved by a whole bell of that crack

I’m a quarterback, Kobe with the Mack

But actually I can shoot better than that

Master with P’s, sell it for the G’s

Ain’t no limit if you trying to cop some keys

Rollie by my sleeve, I’mma pimpanese

Malcolm X, complex by any means

Japanese denim on all of my jeans

Every day thing, leave by the CREAM

Wu-Tang complex since I was a teen

Now I’m getting older, weight on my shoulder

Feeling like Atlas trying to hold the world up

When I’m just trying to hold my fam and my girl up

But they ain’t understand my X-files like I was Scully and Mulder

This Kush and a Xan got me really unsober

But I’m too much of a soldier

To let these drugs take over

Had to cop some work, send it OT

Just to get them loafers

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers

Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather

Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel