Peezy - Fiesta lyrics

Fiesta, fiesta (Tre, what you cookin'?)
Fiesta, fiesta (Wave, this the one, foe)

Fiesta, fiesta my check up, my check up
Six chains on, my neck hurt
Bitch beggin' me to come outside
Gotta wait 'til I'm dressed first

You know when it come to pape', I'm an expert
Millionaire nigga out the dirt
Know my ex hurt
Can't cheat the grind, overtime
Gotta put in that legwork
Elevators in the crib
Had to run up the stairs first
Lamborghini skrrt when I pull off the lot
Got a hun' in jewelry on and
I just put on a watch
Cars trailin' me in traffic when
I pull off thе block
I'm jefe around this bitch
You bettеr not play with my top
I'm gettin' money, I might put on my opps
Give 'em a chance
Let 'em make a diss, then we spin
Go kill 'em again
Met amigo plug, we friends
He send 'em advance
No pressure, when the bag get done
He get all his cash
Why the fuck wouldn't I stay independent?
I get all the cash
Make them crackers give me the bag
Didn't split it in half
I'm a crack baby, mind on a billion
Want shit I ain't have
She act right, I buy her Chanels
Ain't shit but a bag
Had every Rollie you can think of
Make a toast, drink up
Tell my haters keep up
Police askin' me stuff
Told 'em I ain't see much
Too busy lookin' down at my
Rollie with the V cuts
All these niggas pussy, get a wax
You need to clean up
Face got too known up on that road
I had to ease up
I can sleep the whole fuckin' day
Away and still be up
All you niggas in a low tax
Bracket stop bringin' P up
Get your crew slain speakin' on the captain
On vacation in the Hamptons
Still bet I make it happen
Be with well-known assassins, press a button
They get active
Put your feet up in the air just like NASA
Make you blast off
Last time them bitches called me broke
I took the cast off
Now they can't stop callin', I done huh
Now they can't stop callin'
I done ran that fuckin' bag up
Man, I had to stop listenin' to
These niggas 'cause they ass suck
All these digi scales and these
Chickens that got bagged up
See these niggas out, these niggas finished
Ain't got five bucks
Man, I might just quit rappin'
Like in five months
It's just too much fake shit
It fuck the vibe up
I hit Black to get a thousand dollar lineup
Hit the coldest hoes in the hair salons
Don't mind us design District in Miami
I just fucked a dime up
And made it back before I got back in the car
I'm a fuckin' drug dealer
Ain't no motherfuckin' star
It's kinda hard to blend in when
You in these foreign cars
Ayy, we done came a long way
I be on dates with pornstars
Came in the game goin' hard and
We still goin' hard, nigga, fiesta

Fiesta, fiesta fiesta, fiesta
Bitch, my check up, my check up
Yeah, my neck hurt, my neck hurts
My neck hurt, my neck hurt

Yeah (What up, Loudboy?)