Mr.Rogers - Opulence lyrics

[Intro: Slim Thug] It's me b**h... [Verse 1: Slim Thug] I'm Boss Goldie All the bad b**hes know me They pay me like they owe me I'm looking at rollie And it just showed me it's about that time For me to give a little game and get back on my grind Money stay on my mind Cause it stay on my line They keep calling, I keep balling, all my b**hes is dimes Got them waiting in line, them square b**hes is crying Cause don't even look they way, they can't get no more time I'm a pimp, in my own f**ing rhyme I'm a pimp, in my own f**ing rhyme, yes I'm On the hunt for the paper I can't see you broke haters I'mma keep saying, "See you later" with them tags that's paper New whip, new b**h, on my side when I drive Talking about how to get this money before the sun rise I used to sell bricks, now I sell hoes Same thang, different game, it's like selling dope My b**hes got that comeback, they make them tricks come run back And drop out some more stacks No whip, I sit back and stack chips Feel like I'm the living mack Find boss Goldie, where the paper at? [Verse 2: Le$] 305 small block with the numbers to match Origional everything you ain't f**in with that I ain't gotta drive fast boy I let them hoes see me And most them fools hatin is the ones that wanna be m Lamborghini on my mind so I'm turning up that grind Better go and get them Ray Bans b**h I'm bout to shine Or recline, getting head from a broad that used to diss me Buncha unread texts hoes talkin bout they miss me Plottin on a couple million while them s**as still sleep Guess thats why we countin money and them foo's count sheep Do it like we wanna do it only bosses in my click Got that Isley Brothers playin' while I'm flossin' in my sh** I be coughin on that sh**, but I'm rollin up some mo' And this potion that I po' will probably have me movin slow But I'm quick to the mula, I'm teaching em let me school ya Try to pull some bull maneuver get rugers to your Medulla Don't gotta be a shooter, thats something that I'm pa**ed Like a cone full of that gra**, with a mix of that hash Senoritas holla Chico, boy I told you ain't no equal Couple knocks up on your door, put that choppa to your peephole Let you see what I'm about Have your lights turned out Let your b**h meet my b**h, and I got her turned out When them blunts burn out, bet we still gon' remain Pimpin in this mothaf**a she a victim to the game n***a