EST Gee, Babyface Ray - Pink 10s lyrics
Babyface Ray [Marcellus Rayvon Register] Detroit, Michigan, U.S. 🇺🇸
[EST Gee, Babyface Ray - Pink 10s lyrics]
Coach me Joey
Yeah, yeah, yeah, what up Babyface?
Yeah
Yeah, fifty-five hundred
(I feel amazing)
Big general
Ayy, pink 10s, bring a
Friend, Burberry peacoat
Wheat Timbs
(Look)
Thinking back to '08, street spins
I done got grown now, fuck rims (Fuck 'em)
Condo big enough to put a home in (Boy)
Girl that pussy good enough to make the song
Yeah
(Ooh)
Perky got us fuckin' like we on the slow jam
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
'Member I was fucked up so
I hit the road then
Nigga go and get it
You know I don't hold hands
What's a grown man?
Know I ain't going broke like Joc
Bitch it's going down
(Down)
Know I'ma need a stick, ma I'm sorry
I can't cut no rock
Ghost is outside of the mansion
It's a haunted house
(What)
Tell 'em I need a dime
Or I ain't coming out
(I ain't coming out)
Know how you met the plug
'cause he ain't running out
(Fuck)
I went inside the club and made a money pile
When money on they head
The gunners run 'em down
Hit 'em up and go head and pull
Up, I got the money now
Yeah
Just let the counter run it
Love the money sound
Hand cock that shit in they face
Ray, they actin' funny style
Yeah
Went through the money counter
Let me thumb it now
Yeah, yeah, yeah
She drunk in love and I don't even drink
Wintertime mink
Soul snatchin', man that bitch a thief
She done stole me
If it ain't money, it don't move me
That's the whole thang
(That's the whole thang)
Bitch I'm with the winning circle
We a gold ring
(We a)
Gold bottles, gold chains, feel like Master P
(Uh)
No limit to this shit so
What you saying to me?
(What you saying?)
I seen my favorite rapper, he a fan of me
(Fan)
I'm blowing through Miami in an AMG
Yeah I rap, but brody play the keys
Make lil mama sing
Niggas lame, they just got some money
You should fuck with me
I want a better life for the fam
Niggas wanna beef
Still on the 'Gram
I done hit every one of these
(Everyone)
Countin' for everybody, break the lease
Run the streets like dope boys
I got coppers chasing me
Yeah it's killers and robbers
In the function
They with me
I touched down, got it sold
In the morning I'ma leave
See it's tragic
Said they got a hundred on E
(A hundred on E)
I was laughing all in traffic, out in Cali
In a sleeve
I was fresh out of my
Teens with a hundred-fifty piece
Fuck I look like signing
For a hundred-fifty G's?
(The fuck I look like?)
Listening to rappers
Wasn't much I couldn't believe
(Nothing I couldn't believe)
I ain't into rap beef, and it's an issue
Drop the cheese
I'ma hit her til she knock
Kneed off these RP's
We at top speed, who pulling over? Not me
(Skrrt, skrrt)
We gon' high speed, opps bleed
Get you Swiss cheese'd
Feel like eight bands
Pocket full of pre-bag grams
Look like Wheat Thins, black tar
Whipped with Mannitol
Make the H tan, niggas broke
Living in the past
They can't think ahead
Opps slid through the block
And never slide again
(And never slide again)
I don't send shots on Instagram
I shoot at nigga's friends
(Shoot at nigga's friends)
Geesky put the city in a twist
He tryna make a dread
I'ma put some titties on that
Bitch and make an OnlyFans
We at yo' mans and you jumped
In and made a package deal
Rich before my rapper deal
Blue bands, this shit like a loose ten
I'm a made man
And I ain't gotta move another gram
On my mama
Fifty-five hundred, EST Gee
Big boss, pink 10, blue bands
You know wassup
Big G nigga
Yeah, yeah, yeah, what up Babyface?
Yeah
Yeah, fifty-five hundred
(I feel amazing)
Big general
Ayy, pink 10s, bring a
Friend, Burberry peacoat
Wheat Timbs
(Look)
Thinking back to '08, street spins
I done got grown now, fuck rims (Fuck 'em)
Condo big enough to put a home in (Boy)
Girl that pussy good enough to make the song
Yeah
(Ooh)
Perky got us fuckin' like we on the slow jam
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
'Member I was fucked up so
I hit the road then
Nigga go and get it
You know I don't hold hands
What's a grown man?
Know I ain't going broke like Joc
Bitch it's going down
(Down)
Know I'ma need a stick, ma I'm sorry
I can't cut no rock
Ghost is outside of the mansion
It's a haunted house
(What)
Tell 'em I need a dime
Or I ain't coming out
(I ain't coming out)
Know how you met the plug
'cause he ain't running out
(Fuck)
I went inside the club and made a money pile
When money on they head
The gunners run 'em down
Hit 'em up and go head and pull
Up, I got the money now
Yeah
Just let the counter run it
Love the money sound
Hand cock that shit in they face
Ray, they actin' funny style
Yeah
Went through the money counter
Let me thumb it now
Yeah, yeah, yeah
She drunk in love and I don't even drink
Wintertime mink
Soul snatchin', man that bitch a thief
She done stole me
If it ain't money, it don't move me
That's the whole thang
(That's the whole thang)
Bitch I'm with the winning circle
We a gold ring
(We a)
Gold bottles, gold chains, feel like Master P
(Uh)
No limit to this shit so
What you saying to me?
(What you saying?)
I seen my favorite rapper, he a fan of me
(Fan)
I'm blowing through Miami in an AMG
Yeah I rap, but brody play the keys
Make lil mama sing
Niggas lame, they just got some money
You should fuck with me
I want a better life for the fam
Niggas wanna beef
Still on the 'Gram
I done hit every one of these
(Everyone)
Countin' for everybody, break the lease
Run the streets like dope boys
I got coppers chasing me
Yeah it's killers and robbers
In the function
They with me
I touched down, got it sold
In the morning I'ma leave
See it's tragic
Said they got a hundred on E
(A hundred on E)
I was laughing all in traffic, out in Cali
In a sleeve
I was fresh out of my
Teens with a hundred-fifty piece
Fuck I look like signing
For a hundred-fifty G's?
(The fuck I look like?)
Listening to rappers
Wasn't much I couldn't believe
(Nothing I couldn't believe)
I ain't into rap beef, and it's an issue
Drop the cheese
I'ma hit her til she knock
Kneed off these RP's
We at top speed, who pulling over? Not me
(Skrrt, skrrt)
We gon' high speed, opps bleed
Get you Swiss cheese'd
Feel like eight bands
Pocket full of pre-bag grams
Look like Wheat Thins, black tar
Whipped with Mannitol
Make the H tan, niggas broke
Living in the past
They can't think ahead
Opps slid through the block
And never slide again
(And never slide again)
I don't send shots on Instagram
I shoot at nigga's friends
(Shoot at nigga's friends)
Geesky put the city in a twist
He tryna make a dread
I'ma put some titties on that
Bitch and make an OnlyFans
We at yo' mans and you jumped
In and made a package deal
Rich before my rapper deal
Blue bands, this shit like a loose ten
I'm a made man
And I ain't gotta move another gram
On my mama
Fifty-five hundred, EST Gee
Big boss, pink 10, blue bands
You know wassup
Big G nigga