Trouble - Real n***az lyrics

[Hook: Rich Homie Quan] Aston Martin, Panamera Bad b**hes, hit 'em with the hamma Maserati, deuce Ferrari I got horse b**hes, I'm the life of the party Got the 3.5, and my night just started I heard she 'bout to get high, so Imma light this spark And I be goin' so fast, check my mileage And I be blowin' on gas, like I work at Pilot Autostart my car, ho [?] my barcode, check money, Wells Fargo Then I might Louis V my wardrobe I drop half a ten, on my earlobe I don't f** with you, I f** with real n***as If you lame as hell, then I don't deal with yah I don't f** with you, I f** with real n***as If you lame as hell, then I don't deal with yah [Verse 1: Rich The Kid] Louis V my everything, True Religion my everything I hit the mall and I cash out, b**h really, I could buy anything Aston Martin, new Ferrari She love the way I kick it like I knew karate In the bed with three hoes, blowin' out them zero's Your b**h is a ocean like where the f** is Nemo? All I know is foreign but my b**h red I do not understand what that b**h said [Hook: Rich Homie Quan] [Verse 2: Trouble] Rich Homie, Rich The Kid, Trouble rich, trouble kid So much flavor, you unable to catch it like I [?] f**ed so many b**hes you would think I was born with a couple dicks Duct tape the mob, I swear to God, I would never switch Aston Martin, ain't got me now But I've been stackin' all of this paper up to spread it 'mongst the fam Push start it, too retarded Still ride with that yappa, middle finger to them coppers [Hook: Rich Homie Quan]