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Y'all Dead Wrong |
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(Verse 1) |
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Amil outlaw fly indeed |
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Got every chic's man eyeing me |
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Think you could crush this try and see |
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Its the major coin i-n-c |
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And am too hot to just be warm |
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I start fire alarms from dusk to dawn |
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Catch me with the diamond clusters on |
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And Gucci feathered sandals with the mustard thong |
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Model Mommy |
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The body like a cola bottle mommy |
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Mulatto up in the galoino mommy |
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One in a Amiliyon killin' em |
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Might have to change my name to billioyn |
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Voice so ill you'll wanna speak my shit |
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Joints so hot you'll wanna leak my shit |
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Plus haters sneak peek my shit |
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But still I be the only one to freak this shit |
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(Chorus) |
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Y'all dead wrong |
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If you think you ****in' wit this |
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And you'll know |
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That y'all got nothing on this |
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Y'all want that |
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or you want something like this |
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Those who hate |
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Yeah y'all just fronting on this |
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(Verse 2) |
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Why chicks don't wanna rap on the same song as me |
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You need a verse ma, its on me |
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See all this publishing belong to me |
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Just imagine how the second album gonna be |
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Non-stop party hopping |
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Roc roc rocs and keep on rocking |
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Everything I spit be popping |
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Anything Amiliyon want she copping |
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(Whoop Whoop) Ain't nothing change |
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And I play more ballers then them rucker games |
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Light gray studs, ring, watch, plus the chain |
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Will I ever be broke what's my name? |
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Have you ever seen a chick like this? |
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Ever heard one spit like this? |
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I dead 'em all put my word on that |
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All money is legal and I murder tracks |
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Chorus |
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(Verse 3) |
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Cute as a button |
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Can't tell this bitch nothin' |
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Ghetto fab whole click bubbling |
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Diana Ross the boss of the rock |
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Shit you know me I got to floss at the spot |
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Wit a dime as nigga who be tossing knots |
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Every bitch hating cuz I'm scalding hot |
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It can't be because I got begets on |
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Cause niggas love this bitch even with seats on |
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I'm the A-m-i-l-liyon |
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Strictly be on that shit major coins be on |
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I got joints making competition wanna drop dead |
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I got joints making you bop your head |
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I got joints that will have your eyes blood shot red |
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**** the doe I want my props instead |
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Stay real with it |
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Might pack stell wit it |
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You can hate but you still gotta deal wit it |
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Chorus(3x) |
