Soulja Boy, Ca$h Out - Salute lyrics
[Soulja Boy, Ca$h Out - Salute lyrics]
Bring that ass here, girl, drop it
New shoe, new whip, had to cop it
Boy, I came from nothing, turn up
Salute if you getting paper, that’s what’s up
Hey, that’s what’s up hey, that’s what’s up
I came from nothing, that’s what’s up
Salute if you getting paper, that’s what’s up
Bitches see me and I swear
They be giving high-fives
Still catch me in the ‘hood
Eating on some Popeye’s
Oh, my my i smoke loud
You smoking High Times i swear it’s my time
I ain’t slipping, you know I keep mine
Gas truck load
Drop ‘em off in the hood, boatload
I love the cocoa
Work my wrist in a bowl mojo twenty thousand
So many hoes, put ‘em i really don’t brag
But my nigga told me to laugh big bank roll
Watching the Knicks shoot a free throw
Go hard like Rico
Young nigga know the G code
Your life gets repo’d
I fucked her good, and he knows i get money
Ain’t scared of shit, I’m on goal
Matte black Maserati
All these hoes notice me
Broke-ass peasant, man
Them bitches can’t come close to me
Pull up in that drop top coupe and cash out
Cash out in a hundred
Sippin’ lean, ‘bout to pass out
Walk inside the mall
And Ferragamo everything diamonds in my VVS
I mix ‘em with the cuban link
Riding through the city
I got lean in my styrofoam
Make one phone call and my
Shooters get you gone
I got all this money, yeah
You know a nigga counting guap
Half an ounce of this
Half an pound of moon rocks
Catch me in the club and
You I got thirty shots pull up to the club
Hundred thousand busting out the block
New shoe, new whip, had to cop it
Boy, I came from nothing, turn up
Salute if you getting paper, that’s what’s up
Hey, that’s what’s up hey, that’s what’s up
I came from nothing, that’s what’s up
Salute if you getting paper, that’s what’s up
Bitches see me and I swear
They be giving high-fives
Still catch me in the ‘hood
Eating on some Popeye’s
Oh, my my i smoke loud
You smoking High Times i swear it’s my time
I ain’t slipping, you know I keep mine
Gas truck load
Drop ‘em off in the hood, boatload
I love the cocoa
Work my wrist in a bowl mojo twenty thousand
So many hoes, put ‘em i really don’t brag
But my nigga told me to laugh big bank roll
Watching the Knicks shoot a free throw
Go hard like Rico
Young nigga know the G code
Your life gets repo’d
I fucked her good, and he knows i get money
Ain’t scared of shit, I’m on goal
Matte black Maserati
All these hoes notice me
Broke-ass peasant, man
Them bitches can’t come close to me
Pull up in that drop top coupe and cash out
Cash out in a hundred
Sippin’ lean, ‘bout to pass out
Walk inside the mall
And Ferragamo everything diamonds in my VVS
I mix ‘em with the cuban link
Riding through the city
I got lean in my styrofoam
Make one phone call and my
Shooters get you gone
I got all this money, yeah
You know a nigga counting guap
Half an ounce of this
Half an pound of moon rocks
Catch me in the club and
You I got thirty shots pull up to the club
Hundred thousand busting out the block