Flees - Zaytoven, Sosa

I’m in a two seater, in the carpool

Gold runners on, and they are new

And gettin' money, what we up to

You ain’t with us, then it’s fuck you

Play chess in the streets, make your move

My house in LA look like Cancun

These hoes be takin' selfies in my bathroom

Fo’nem watch the spot from the cameras

We servin' that come back, front one more

The judge cannot stop me from countin' honchos

You gotta re-up when you run low

I’ma run it up and I’ma run for more

These bitch see the steez when I bop out the car

Met the bitch today but I’ll get top by tomorrow

You don’t get it like the gang, no not like the squad

I’m on planet Earth, I’m finna shoot back to Mars

On Mars with a scope, finna shoot at the stars

High as fuck, seein' Saturn have a shootout with Mars

Your thot say she see me in two different cars

I just hit Neiman’s in a few different malls

Back to the wall, feet on the floor

Pedal to the metal, whole bunch of gold

Buy a lot of clothes, achieve a lot of goals

Friends turn foe but I’m wavy like a float

Syrup got me like a snail

On the yacht, finna set sail

Smokin' dope, finna inhale then exhale

All this loud in my fuckin' lungs, man, I can’t yell

I can’t even pronounce my foreign ass bail

Bitch I’m smoking on dope, bitch, I eat boss-anova

Bitch my pockets are boulders, we don’t ride in no Rovers

Bitch we ride I8s, bitch I’m high, outer space

Ride foreigns, no plates, OG Kush, you can taste

I smoke a zip every day, pour the 8 to the face

Bitch we game paper chase, bitch you food, can’t relate

Might do a show in Japan, rockin' outfits from France

Catch that pack when it land, watch me go count them bands

At the stoplight, two-seater, me and Yo

Me and Sosa fucked up, nah, that ain’t no

Hit the club, bitches bustin' everywhere, yo-yo

Do my thing, flee the scene, I’ma leave with po-po

Snow bunny with me sniffin' Coca Cola co-co

I used to be solo

I steady send shots, miss and that’s a low blow

String on the TEC like the string on a yo-yo

Run and I’ma blow though

Coolin' at the spot by the ocean

Pickin' up a bitch off of Ocean Drive

Pulled up to Wells Fargo

Run out that bitch with the sack, hop in the car like bitch drive

I can try to walk a straight line but I’m really high

And I could’ve took a Greyhound but I’m really fly

Oh yeah I’m fuckin' bitches, baby, I’m not in denial

And the jury tryna steal me but I’m takin' it to trial