Hold up, hold up Turn the bag into two Got the paper on my mind (Hold up) Take that bad bitch with you (Hold up) Got a crib on the yacht (Hold up) Hold up, hold up, hold up Montana, Giggs

Kick it with myself, kick it with myself I don't need no help, I don't need no help No one else Turn the beat up a little bit more in here, Bengineer, please! I guess I'm doing this one by myself If you can't just be good with being by yourself How you

First I drop my top aye, then I swerve my coupe aye Counting all these bands aye, who the fuck are you aye Why you walk so cool aye, thousand dollar shoes aye Hunnid on my jewels aye, I got all these groupies Brittney turned me to a slut Who the fuck are

This is a gift it comes with a price Who is the lamb and who is the knife Midas is king and he holds me so tight And turns me to gold in the sunlight (Raise it up) (Raise it up raise it up) We raise it up, this offering We raise it up Raise it up raise

Turn it up now Freaks flock together And make all the be-boys scream I'm mixing business with leather Christmas with Heather Word up to the man thing She's always cold lamping Visine at the canteen

It's obvious that you're dying, dying Just living proof that the camera's lying And oh oh open wide Don't look up just let them think You can't turn back Because this road is all you'll ever have 'Cause you'll go out in style You'll go out in style Yeah

Mine, all mine, all mine Shes my radio turned up to 11 Shes my country song that I just gotta sing along to So fine, so fine, like the finest wine Shes my blue-eyed dream, my summer queen I cant believe shes mine, all mine Whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh I'm a

We'll get higher and higher Oh that's what dreams are made of Straight up we'll climb Leave it all behind So baby dry your eyes, save all The tears you've cried World turns black and white Pictures in an empty room Your love starts fallin down

I'm with that woop Fuck all that turn up the headphones shit But turn up my headphones anyway Huh? (Boom production) Turnt gangster Sir, bun up the main road Run up and stay low Turn up the radio Dirt, straight family

Does it diminish your Super-capacity to love Walk like a matador, Don't be chicken-shit And turn breezes into rivulets Flamenco-sweep the air And weave the sun And stamp your feet for everyone Does it exhibit your