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Wiz Khalifa, T.I., French Montana, 2 Chainz, Meek Mill, Ace Hood - Bugatti (Explicit Remix Version)

Bugatti
Wiz Khalifa, T.I., French Montana, 2 Chainz, Meek Mill, Ace Hood
05:25
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Song lyrics

[Intro: Future]
We the muthafuckin best, nigga!
Ace Hood!
It's over, Future!

[Chorus: Future]
I come lookin for you with Haitians,
I stay smokin on good Jamaican,
I fuck bitches from different races,
You get money, they started hatin.
I woke up in a new Bugatti,
I woke up in a new Bugatti,
I woke up in a new Bugatti,
I woke up in a new Bugatti,
I woke up in a new Bugatti.

[Verse 1: Ace Hood]
Niggas be hatin, I'm rich as a bitch,
Hundred K, I spent that on my wrist,
Two hundred thousand, I spent that on your bitch,
You and your model, put that on the list.
Oh, there he go in that foreign again,
Killin the scene, bring the coroner in,
Murder she wrote, swallow or choke,
Hit her and go home, and call her again.
Woke up early morning, crib as big as a college,
Smoke me a pound of the loudest,
Whippin some shit with no mileage,
Diamonds cost me a fortune,
Them horses all in them Porsches,
You pussies, can't handle afford it.
4,200 my mortgage,
Ballin on niggas like Kobe,
Fuck all you, haters, you bore me,
Only the real get a piece of the plate,
Reppin my city, I'm runnin my state.
Give me a pistol, then run with the K's,
Niggas want beef then I visit ya place, bang!

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: Ace Hood]
Yeah, and I'm at it again,
There go that flow bringin tragedy in,
Copped me a chain, your salary spent,
Niggas is sweepin them cavities in,
Countin money, hourly trend,
Rollin them skinny like Olsen twins.
Niggas is squares, cabin and pens,
Neck full of Gold Olympian shit,
Neimans, I'm blowin the check on they gear.
Fall on some pussy then hop on the Lear,
Shot with them choppers back of the rear,
Sak pase, them killers is here.
Woke up early morning, mind is tellin me money,
Paper, mula, pockets is fat as a tumor.
Billionaire nigga, no rumor,
Livin my life off of tuna.
Wanted with me, I deliver the beef,
Real niggas only enjoyin the feast,
Pull up a seat, bon appétit.
No Louboutins put that red on your feet, bang!

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Photographs of dope boys is all they takin',
Finger prints on the Rolls Royce is why they hatin',
Push a button on these broke boys, that's detonation.
Walk a road to riches bare feet,
I watch mama struggle, now she livin' carefree,
That's why I hustle for half a key that's twelve G's.
I'm tryin' to bubble every summer a new LP,
You gotta love me, I got shooters out the D-League,
Signin' bonus, hit that man that's from thirty feet, left in a puddle,
Finger prints is on hundred mill',
And what it is?
Ricky Rozay and Ace Hood, we hella trill, yeah!

[Chorus]

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