Curren$y, Wiz Khalifa, Rick Ross - Choosin' lyrics

'Shameka its not your fault
At least put a nigga's order in"

Uh, daytime lights on
Hell yeah I'm frontin' but you love it
I don't hide bitch
I'm high when I'm in public
Even in my everyday ride I be stuntin'
This is nothing really
You should see me Sunday
I'm from New Orleans love
You know how I'm coming
Hop out that Impala, left the motor running
Them my lil homies front that store
They ain't gone touch it
Spitta where you goin', finna meet the money
I come through in that bread truck
Everybody hungry i be trynna keep it low
But the streets be talking
I heard they think I'm selling dope
On them walkie talkies
They worst than them bitches
Them bitches be stalkin'
Outside checkin' for which car
A nigga parkin' she said she from Belize
But she can speak Ferrari
I roll that tree and I write a
Song about it in the morning

Pull up in that errrr and
Them bitches start choosin'
Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'
Pull off in that skrrrrr and
Them haters gone lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it
Pull up in that errrr and
Them bitches start choosin'
Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'
Pull off in that skrrrrr and
Them haters gone lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

Pull up
Pushing buttons blowing OG like it's nothing
Marijuana fussin
Smoking loud is no discussion
Black & Yellow, Black & Yellow
Something out of nothing
Choppers like the Russians
Bust your head that's a concussion
Full time grinder, all the time hustlin'
Bitch, I'm from the Burg so you
Know that I be thuggin'
Made it from the bottom
So in God we put our trust in
Certified stoner, get a Raw and put a nug in
Rari's, Rari's, Rari's, Lamborghini hari kari
Suicidal doors, tell the owner I said sorry
Pull up in that you know
Pockets fat like sumo
Taylor Gang or Die, Jet 'La La La' Life!

Pull up in that errrr and
Them bitches start choosin'
Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'
Pull off in that skrrrrr and
Them haters gone lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it
Pull up in that errrr and
Them bitches start choosin'
Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'
Pull off in that skrrrrr and
Them haters gone lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

My homies, we sold pills
The motive was chrome wheels
Pullin' up to club Liv, makin' them hoes peel
My niggas was way trill, wardrobe was unreal
My Cuban was Spanish gold
So vintage as my Cazals
I'm talking the facts of life
Can I just have a slice?
Best seats at the game, 'Bron having a night
Let him go check the stats
Cause all I want is the racks
Even moving the merch, I'm getting 60 a hat
MCM on my luggage, Reebok making me buttered
Behike Cuban cigars bombaclot he
Think he Dudus
Double M, we the hottest on the fucking turf
I'm going straight to heaven
Crib built like the church

Pull up in that errrr and
Them bitches start choosin'
Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'
Pull off in that skrrrrr and
Them haters gone lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it
Pull up in that errrr and
Them bitches start choosin'
Choosin', choosin', choosin', choosin'
Pull off in that skrrrrr and
Them haters gone lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it