Rich Homie Quan - Treadmill lyrics

Yea Rich Homie quan Nigga
I bet right now
You probably wonder what the fuck this is
Rich Homie Workout music
Know what I'm talking about?

I’m in the Benz first like I’m ‘posed to
Don’t approach me nigga I don't know you, a
Pull up on them in the 442
And gotta 35 rack and it old school
Got a fetish for the cars and the paper
And I gotta fetish for the broad
But I don’t chase her i love how I was broke
Worth about 2 mill on the come
Up you can rate them
Money over bitches even though I love ladies
If a nigga want a verse then
A nigga gotta pay me
I came from nothing nigga now I’m in
A hardwood floor by the lake (East Atlanta)
I remember not smoking now a
Nigga hitting wax outta vapors
(All that weed)
It don’t matter how much money I got if
You owe me nigga better pay up
Top down in a Z28 now my
Car look like a spaceship
Hell no I don’t like these bitches
Can’t wife these bitches ain’t made up
And I don’t want ice cream till
I get my cake up
That bitch nigga shit don’t phase her
Turn this motherfucker up so loud
I wake my neighbors
Get on my line nigga I’m like a line nigga
Like a razor, no Motorola, getting faded
I’m in Oklahoma and I’m tasting that paper
I need a towel because I’m
Tired as hell on that

Treadmills I’m runnin’ to it
Treadmills I’m runnin’ to it
Treadmills I’m runnin’ to it
On that treadmill I’m running to that paper
You get tired as hell when
You running for that paper
I need a towel homie I’m swimming from it
Treadmill I been running
Treadmill I been running
Treadmill I been running
Treadmill I been running
I been running for that paper
I’m tired of that

We back in so we slippin ‘out
Got a 20 homie and my pistol cocked
Put 30K on this simple wave
Big booty bitch with them dimples babe
Gotta Motel 6 I’m pimping that
And a penthouse suite I don’t live in that
Got the same white on the Diddy got
Can’t love these bitches thats
What this about
Can't trust these niggas gotta switch it up
I’m in public walking with a cup
I got forklift bullets that will lift you up
Middle finger motherfucker I don’t
Give a fuck i run into that paper all day
I run into that paper all day
I’m gone sniff and scratch my money long ways
I’ll be re-up it won’t take me all day
Run up on me nigga attack and kill
For that money nigga I go track and field
Like an action figure boy you
Know you fake as fuck
You taking picture the likes of these bitches
Who the fuck you take me for?
All these homies who want money
I swear I can’t make this up
I like my money faces up
Working out I been shaping up on them