8Percent, Astrus*, Wassup Rocker, Ciscaux - magic! lyrics

Lil' bitch, I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' bitch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these
Racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-fuckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that shit
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, bitch? Leave a bitch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss
I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' bitch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these
Racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-fuckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that shit
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, bitch? Leave a bitch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss

How you got Gucci but ain't got no whip?
'Bout to buy another car just


In case I wanna switch
I got mortgage, I don't really do rent
And I'm blowin' on gas that'll make you spin
It go sex, music, then I go shop a bit
Two Glocks, boy, don't go startin' shit
Bad bitches, you know they tappin' in
All black fit then throw some Rick in it
Model 3 and I got yo' bitch in it (Skrrt)
Tell her that I don't do questionin' (Nah)
Dropped out with this black Dior letterman
I don't really do much, baby
I just rap a bit (Huh, huh, huh, huh)
Boy, wake up and get to yo' job
Big body parked in the garage
New girl, ass on Nicki Minaj
When I get on TV, I'm
Shoutin' out my dogs, like, ha

Lil' bitch, I'm swaggin'
What's happenin-nin'?
Make yo' bitch disappear like ma-a-a-a
Like-like i'm just countin' all these
Racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-fuckin' up sacks, fu-fu-fuckin' up
Fuckin' up

Lil' bitch, I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' bitch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these
Racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-fuckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that shit
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, bitch? Leave a bitch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss
(Skrrt)

I like my bitches brown like bourbon
(Yes, Sir)
Remember had no homework turned in (For real)
Nowadays get more money than a surgeon
(Ayy, chi ching)
Big, big racks in an all black suburban
(Chi ching)
Get money two ways, digital, physical (Go)
Yeah, they gon' hate but it's only subliminal
(Bitch)
Yeah, I might flex but I keep it to minimal
(Go, go, go, go, go, go)
Heard what they dropping and
That shit is pitiful (Ayy)
Relax, I got a bag on the way hit sacks
(Woo) , put about a thou' on my waist
Get back
(yeah) , boy, this a million dollar face
And a priceless smile like my momma say (Ayy)
If looks could kill
I'd leave these bitches in a hearse
I smell like the 15th and look like the 1st
My bitch so proud of me but Chanel her purse
(No)
They try to copy me, but this ain't rehearsed
(Bitch)

I push her nerves to the maximum
I used to ride in the back of a Maxima
Usually I don't talk shit but I'm mad as fuck
Divide the split's with my friends
And we add it up
Everything I do, I do it twice
Everything I do, I do it nice
Buy a zip and blow it all night
My bitch is just like me
We look alike, like, ah
We live our lives like some bachelors, duh
I get my bag like it's Postmates, duh
I'm still recovering, it's okay, uh
Im in the band like it's Coldplay, uh

Lil' bitch, I'm swaggin', what's happenin'?
Make yo' bitch disappear like magic
I'm just countin' all these
Racks off of rappin'
Fu-fu-fuckin' up sacks, my passion
Okay, like, new whip, finna push that shit
Countin' blue strips till it rip my wrist
Who is you, bitch? Leave a bitch clueless
And we do this, if you shoot, don't miss