City Morgue - Lamborghini Getaway lyrics

Uh, Sleezy oh my God, Ronny

Mula! Fuck the fame, I can't switch (No, no)
Pussy niggas ain’t this (Fuck outta here)
Gang-gang, gang shit (Blatt)
Red beam, can't miss (Blow)
Adios, gotta go (Mula)
Knock your soul out your clothes (Clah)
Whippin' O’s, out the bowl (Work)
I get dough, I control (Mula)
Pull up in a Vanquish (Skrrt)
Flexin' with your main bitch (Squad)
Still sellin' 'caine bricks (Work)
Talking sign language (Mula)
I sell blow, lot of blow (Work)
I'm Pablo, El Chapo (Work)
Tippie toe and prod it up (Mula)
Dolce and Gabbana, ho (Smash)
Woah, woah, woah, woah
Ride four deep like carpool (Skrrt)
Bitch on my 'Gram like it's art school (Blow)
Big Tommy-gun like cartoon (Blow)
Shoot niggas down with the harpoon (Grra)
Niggas comin' home for my stake bitch (Fuck)
Where the bricks at? Gotta take the kids
(Work)
Where the bricks at? We gon’ break your ribs
(Mula)

In the Lamborghini, that’s the getaway (yeah)
Dual exhaust
The smoke be puffin' in your face (yeah)
Niggas talk, they oh, so frontin’, okay
Niggas claim, oh so you banging? You fake
(Okay, okay, okay)

Pull up on a oppa, pass the chopper
Turn them inside out (Okay)
Pull up on the house in a Aston
Put it in your mouth (Okay)
See me in the streets
Money stickin' to my cleats (Wassup?)
Got heaters, you want to beef, got reapers
You wanna leap (Wassup?)
Ayy, it's Z
(yeah) , Turbo Porsche cream (yeah)
Stretch Limousine, got the Glock in my jeans
(Okay) bitch, I serve fiends
Got the rocks in my sleeves (yeah)
Bitch, I flip P's, cops outside, then leave
(Okay, okay, okay)

In the Lamborghini, that’s the getaway (yeah)
Dual exhaust
The smoke be puffin' in your face (yeah)
Niggas talk, they oh, so frontin', okay
Niggas claim, oh so you banging? You fake
(Okay, okay, okay)