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lirik lagu payup! game - stampede

[hook: all]

all my n-ggas gettin’ f-cked up
all my b-tches gettin’ real ratchet
all my n-ggas gettin’ f-cked up
all my b-tches gettin’ real ratchet
all my n-ggas gettin’ f-cked up
all my b-tches gettin’ real ratchet
all my n-ggas gettin’ f-cked up
f-cked up, f-cked up

[verse 1: mouf]

showtime, i’m finna go ape
all my b-tches better show face
i’m on that k!llah with 14 n-ggas
with a bird on my arm; they call me ghostface
they g-ssed this party up all day
so the next four hours is no break
with a car full of b-tches, thats all tryna get it
better move this couch, i need mo’ sp-ce
your brand new ho is my old date
before you kiss her use colgate
she bend over, i swing the wood
you would’ve never thought we was good at croquet
i f-ck her on liquor, man i hope i don’t throw up
s-x on the rocks – d-mn, thats a cold cut
(godd-mn it jae, when you finna grow up?)
man that was out the window when i showed up

[verse 2: cherele]

f-ck that noise, i’m po’d up
og ron c, i’m slowed up
hanging on to the wall like a poster
bang-bang, oh, fresh out the holster
mobbin’ at your crib like your parents, ho
no 5-0 yet? that’s a miracle
could you ask yo dude why he starin’ for?
know he sees this crown, i’m imperial
elephants are all on my logos
and middle fingers all in my photos
purple haze rollin’ up these o-zones
name one track i wasn’t cold on
did ya notice i’m like too lit?
think i spoke to god after 2 hits
just popped champagne on a white chick
for the right spliff
take slight risks

[hook]

[verse 3: andré desaint]

met a bad b-tch named holly
yeah i’m tryna give her that wood
and her tongue full of that molly
everybody on that good
oh you a fan? well then word up!
i got a whole night we can burn up
you know how many women i turn down?
you ain’t got no choice but to turn up
d-mn these n-ggas sound b-tch made
your rhymes are very tyler perry
i ain’t tryna sleep till i get paid
i’m up all night till my eyes are cherry
cups in the air like true
it ain’t just me i came with a crew
i’m tryna leave with you, you, and you
you and you; what i gotta do?

[verse 4: ellz]

you don’t got a clue but i bet i’m on the yak bruh bruh
four things and a bottle roast weed and i’m auto-
pilot; violet kush bleed in impalas
all my g’s gullah gullah island for the mullah
motherf-ck ’em cold blooded
real n-gga roll a onion
got kush, 2 cups, and b-tches in abundance
my n-ggas not to f-ck with
got my hand on a bottle and some purp in my cup b-tch
now that match my weed kissin pink
b-tches drink; piffin stink
all eyes on me, pac in this b-tch
locked in this b-tch
throw some ciroc in this b-tch
my people, my people, blow down roll up that diesel
one time tonight we live one life; get blasted then we redo

[hook]

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