Yo Gotti - Mandarin (feat. Rich Homie Quan) lyrics
Rich Homie Quan [Dequantes Devontay Lamar] Atlanta, Georgia, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Yo Gotti - Mandarin feat. Rich Homie Quan lyrics]
(June, you're a genius) frrt
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust
You had a chance
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
Rose Patek, leather band
'Member my first thousand grams
They was taxin' twenty-four
Now I'm payin' Uncle Sam
Street nigga, diffеrent bracket
Twenty mill' paid in taxеs
Tryna get a B, fuck a hundred mill'
So I can't be relaxin'
Malibu, Nobu, chauffer
But them chopsticks on me
SoHo been me, CEO, but that street shit in me
Break it down, bag it up
Money counter, add it up
Twenty year run, but I ain't had enough
Them pussy niggas still mad at us
Yeah, and we don't call 'em AKs
They chopsticks home of the triple cross
We call that a plot twist
This rap shit saved me weed plug Asian
Gotti, you ridin' in a Cullinan
With a Drac', boy, you crazy
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust
You had a chance
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
Eighty-three thousand for the new teeth
Got a nigga smiling
Check the bitch car fast 'cause a
Lot of hoes got mileage
The DEA must've brought a skillet 'cause
The judge want to fry me
I put that shit on every day
So RIP my stylist
Mama said that money startin' to odor, boy
It's smellin' (Ayy)
And I know I'm walkin' proof you
Can't make money as a felon (Nah)
They selfish
Niggas I looked up to, now they jealous
(What?)
Chopstick hit your spine and your pelvis
(Oh, fah, fah, fah)
High school, I was poppin'
I would never walk to school
Got the chopstick in my bookbag
I ain't talkin' 'bout no food
Paper in my bookbag too
I'm lookin' for space (Rich Homie)
I'm at that restaurant in Buckhead where
They cook it in your face
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust
You had a chance
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
Chopsticks chopsticks chopsticks chopsticks
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust
You had a chance
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
Rose Patek, leather band
'Member my first thousand grams
They was taxin' twenty-four
Now I'm payin' Uncle Sam
Street nigga, diffеrent bracket
Twenty mill' paid in taxеs
Tryna get a B, fuck a hundred mill'
So I can't be relaxin'
Malibu, Nobu, chauffer
But them chopsticks on me
SoHo been me, CEO, but that street shit in me
Break it down, bag it up
Money counter, add it up
Twenty year run, but I ain't had enough
Them pussy niggas still mad at us
Yeah, and we don't call 'em AKs
They chopsticks home of the triple cross
We call that a plot twist
This rap shit saved me weed plug Asian
Gotti, you ridin' in a Cullinan
With a Drac', boy, you crazy
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust
You had a chance
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
Eighty-three thousand for the new teeth
Got a nigga smiling
Check the bitch car fast 'cause a
Lot of hoes got mileage
The DEA must've brought a skillet 'cause
The judge want to fry me
I put that shit on every day
So RIP my stylist
Mama said that money startin' to odor, boy
It's smellin' (Ayy)
And I know I'm walkin' proof you
Can't make money as a felon (Nah)
They selfish
Niggas I looked up to, now they jealous
(What?)
Chopstick hit your spine and your pelvis
(Oh, fah, fah, fah)
High school, I was poppin'
I would never walk to school
Got the chopstick in my bookbag
I ain't talkin' 'bout no food
Paper in my bookbag too
I'm lookin' for space (Rich Homie)
I'm at that restaurant in Buckhead where
They cook it in your face
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust
You had a chance
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy
We call 'em chopsticks
Chopsticks chopsticks chopsticks chopsticks