Cardiak - Lay Low lyrics

[Verse 1: Meek Mill] Bought a brand new loft, five thousand a month b**h my sour is special, hundred dollars a blunt Only smoke if it's proper, in the words of Big Poppa Rush his a** to the doctors, took the sacks and we shot you Blocka-blocka-bla-blocka, warn his a** with them chopper It'll be a ma**acre f*ggot, automatic kicking like soccer Bottles popping it's popping, twenty b**hes around us I just slide her the numbers, so if she hit me I count her I canary the pinky, hit her right like winky Got the club looking cloudy, for the love of the stinky In a 600 Benz, a couple b**hes they friends And we just getting started, these haters wishing we end Brown nose on these hoes, n***as fishing again Notice she swallow with those, drop like it on her chin n***as left me for dead, b**h I'm living again Special chopper official, they see my vision again [Chorus: Meek Mill & Young Chris] Know it's a party, we see the sparkles, they coming Standing on couches, b**hes surround us, we blunting We travel the globe, stop in your town, and run it And you already know, cuff them hoes tonight, we born to run it Because we motherf**ing paid hoe (Paid hoe) And all that cream, blow that paper like the haze hoe Life's a beach, I'm in the sun with my shades After the club we take the baddest b**h and lay low Hey hoe (Hey hoe) Hey hoe (Hey hoe) After the club we get the baddest b**h and lay low Hey hoe (Hey hoe) Hey hoe (Hey hoe) After the club we take the baddest b**h and lay low [Verse 2: Young Chris] Maserati dipping, wrist cost me a chicken Neck cost a Bentley, think I'm finna have a ticket Got a fetish for Ferraris, and f**ing bad b**hes Smoke a n***a like I'm Marley all we know is lot of n***as The summer's mine, Jordan number 9 I came in balling on these n***as like a young LeBron In front them b**hes, hit them on the lot Came in with your main hoe, your? It's Young Chris, eat a dick, we the sh** We really balling you just talking about a Stephen Smith I let my money do the talking, I just plead the fifth I'm on my Metro, just call me if you need a brick [Chorus] [Verse 3: Freeway] It's the makie with bacon, all these rappers be hating Spit hella facts, hella facts, got me past immigrations To my Canadian fans, they had me stuck at the border See the brighling, big Bent', I think them ba*tards is rascist Call me Hussain boy, we be off to the races And no negating Smith & Wesson leave you crusain boy We be up in the clubs, stunting with two chains boy Got it popping, n***as mad, they b**hes all up in our faces Got them bottles Rosay, shots of Patron All them chicks take shots to the dome Hit right here trying to follow me home Shots to his Impala, I'm gone [Chorus]