Fat Nick, Pouya - Seven Figure Habits lyrics
Pouya [Kevin Pouya] Miami, Florida, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Fat Nick, Pouya - Seven Figure Habits lyrics]
Ayo Lil Mexico, pass the gas
They want the old Fat Nick, back on bullshit
Popped a lot of percs now I
Pop a lot of Glocks if you see a bad bitch
I fucked her and all her friends
I spent my money on some guns
Got some diamonds and some drip
This a seven figure habit
Can't get a casket
I been rich for way too long
These is facts I don't be braggin'
See that Porsche roof drop, 556 pop
Every IG model want my dick
But they get cropped
In the club twenty bottles of that
Hen' I pop 'em off
In the streets 30 clip, who or where
We let 'em off
This a big body, we spin on anybody
And we ain't movin' half bricks
We talkin' big money
The Hellcat make a lot of noise
Sound like a Glock shot your man
He talk a lot of shit but he a broke fuck
Sendin' opps to the grave by the dump truck
If you the last man standin'
Have the pole tucked
It's a blitz when I pull up, when I pull off
If that bitch ain't suckin' dick I tell
That hoe to pause and skrrt off
You broke, don't want no issues
My pistol come with some tissues
These perkies don't make me miss you
You thuggin' so keep it with you
Remix Sprite, yeah, these bullets might, yeah
These diamonds bright, yeah, keep
Duckin' it's on sight, yeah
Road runnin' demon, chop a pack
Ain't never catch me lackin'
Ain't need no scammin' just to
Get my bands up, what I'm stackin'
Baby Bone put 24's on that Vogue
You bitches still whippin' Volvos
Fanboys take photos
Hoes take they clothes off and
Offer me blowjobs for nothin'
You expect me not to accept?
How you get me naked and then
You come for my neck?
Every move I make is calculated
All for the set
As the hate grows, as do the bankrolls
So we keep everything from
MAC-10s to flamethrowers
Too deep in the HV yellin' "why
The fuck you hate me?"
I just wanna make my money and music
So I keep it off safety
Know my enemies wanna take me
Six feet underneath the ground but
It don't fuckin' phrase
Yeah I walk a tightrope knowin' one
Day I will fall off
But until then, keep the gloves on
Might hit a fuckboy with a crowbar
Then run away like I was
I peeled off in a minivan
I'm feelin' like I'm Jackie Chan
I do my stunts, I stack my bands
I split it up with friends and fam
I thank the Lord for all my fans
I pray I'm never broke again
I've been through hell and back again
I'll never let the devil in my soul
A hundred bands for the Benz
Runnin' over picket fences
Potholes and bullet holes
Put fuckboys in trenches
I got goals I gotta reach before I'm 37
Bitch it's Kevin, motherfucker
Give a fuck about a reverend
Only prayin' to myself, yuh
They want the old Fat Nick, back on bullshit
Popped a lot of percs now I
Pop a lot of Glocks if you see a bad bitch
I fucked her and all her friends
I spent my money on some guns
Got some diamonds and some drip
This a seven figure habit
Can't get a casket
I been rich for way too long
These is facts I don't be braggin'
See that Porsche roof drop, 556 pop
Every IG model want my dick
But they get cropped
In the club twenty bottles of that
Hen' I pop 'em off
In the streets 30 clip, who or where
We let 'em off
This a big body, we spin on anybody
And we ain't movin' half bricks
We talkin' big money
The Hellcat make a lot of noise
Sound like a Glock shot your man
He talk a lot of shit but he a broke fuck
Sendin' opps to the grave by the dump truck
If you the last man standin'
Have the pole tucked
It's a blitz when I pull up, when I pull off
If that bitch ain't suckin' dick I tell
That hoe to pause and skrrt off
You broke, don't want no issues
My pistol come with some tissues
These perkies don't make me miss you
You thuggin' so keep it with you
Remix Sprite, yeah, these bullets might, yeah
These diamonds bright, yeah, keep
Duckin' it's on sight, yeah
Road runnin' demon, chop a pack
Ain't never catch me lackin'
Ain't need no scammin' just to
Get my bands up, what I'm stackin'
Baby Bone put 24's on that Vogue
You bitches still whippin' Volvos
Fanboys take photos
Hoes take they clothes off and
Offer me blowjobs for nothin'
You expect me not to accept?
How you get me naked and then
You come for my neck?
Every move I make is calculated
All for the set
As the hate grows, as do the bankrolls
So we keep everything from
MAC-10s to flamethrowers
Too deep in the HV yellin' "why
The fuck you hate me?"
I just wanna make my money and music
So I keep it off safety
Know my enemies wanna take me
Six feet underneath the ground but
It don't fuckin' phrase
Yeah I walk a tightrope knowin' one
Day I will fall off
But until then, keep the gloves on
Might hit a fuckboy with a crowbar
Then run away like I was
I peeled off in a minivan
I'm feelin' like I'm Jackie Chan
I do my stunts, I stack my bands
I split it up with friends and fam
I thank the Lord for all my fans
I pray I'm never broke again
I've been through hell and back again
I'll never let the devil in my soul
A hundred bands for the Benz
Runnin' over picket fences
Potholes and bullet holes
Put fuckboys in trenches
I got goals I gotta reach before I'm 37
Bitch it's Kevin, motherfucker
Give a fuck about a reverend
Only prayin' to myself, yuh