Yo these trumpets got me feeling like I'm at the pearly gates
And that 0-60 make me think I'm in a f*cking race
And if he try to step to Zay, I gotta put him in his place
Red dot 'em like a Hindu and don't leave a f*cking trace, I set the pace
Got ahead and now I'm running on my own
And if you don't show love in person, please don't hit my f*cking phone
And now I'm sliding on the beat because I'm in my f*cking zone
Been grinding all my life and now I'm reaping what I've sewn, I set the tone
I set the bar and now I'm leaping even higher
Told Rob just pick a beat dawg, and throw me in the fire
And if I told you that I love you, my mom never raised a liar
So if yo feelings not reciprocated, no reason to inquire
I'm getting tired of this bullshit that they speaking on my name
Got two albums under my belt, talking like I run the game
F*cking your great auntie's daughter's sis 'cause shawty was a dame
Got some money in my pocket, things will never be the same
Late nights whipping in the Tesla, tryna save the gas for my lungs
Sipping on the brews when I'm hanging with the crew
I don't really f*ck with the Mountain Dew
Blew a .8 at the traffic stop, told the cop I don't really know what that's about
I don't really drink, I don't really smoke
Just got tatted with some ink, just bought my wife some ink
Just fixed my broken sink, call me Fix-It Felix the way I be fixing this shit
Call me Mr. Olympia, the way I be flexing this shit
Call me Einstein, the way this shit be perplexing
Let this be a lesson, don't f*ck with me or I'll bring the full press in
I'm an artist, I smoke the loudest
Got your bitch in the Stu' sucking dick, she a prowess
Now she mounting, yeah she wet like a fountain
Made me cum twice, I need a rest but now she pouting
So now I'm going ham again, titties so extravagant
Booty keep clapping back like I'm a f*cking magnet
Brain so insane, yo she even a graduate?
Way she bowing down feel like I received the sacrament
Yeah her hair so frizzy when I hit it from the back, yeah I get so dizzy
Now she gleaming up my glizzy, but wait hold up I gotta take a pissy
Now she let me hit it from the back again, no kizzy
Yeah her name was Lizzy, smoking hot like a chimney
Curves so spicy like some cinnamon
Back shots imminent, light her ass up like a filament
Smoking on grocery greens, ain't no cigarettes
My three like the heat 'cause there's no AC in the whip (aye)
I told my brother take my life if I go out about some bitch (aye)
He ain't know where she was at until he check her at the crib (aye)
He ain't know that was my chopper 'til he check under the grip
And my shit gotta click
My shit gotta hit, go like (boom boom boom boom boom)
I gotta reload that whole clip
And I guess he still got hit
I ain't lie about this shit
You can walk me through the x-ray, I got metal in my hip
I got metal in my pocket, I got money on my head (aye)
Too much stepping in the Forces they already turning red (aye)
If he lie about that shit, he already knew he dead (aye)
If he talking to the opps, I might leave his ass on read (aye)
And my shooter like a dog, I might give his ass a bone
And he might just pop a perky just to get up in his zone
If I f*ck with her, believe me I'll be f*cking all night long
If she tell me that she love me, then this not a love song
And it's not a love song, it's a getting money song
It's a f*cking bitches everyday and selling drugs song (aye)
It's a left her ass on read, if she ain't knew that was wrong
It's a left her yesterday, if I ain't f*cking with her tone (aye)
I ain't sniffing no ketamine
Bitch tryna change me, she make a better me
I know I'm vouching for all of these 'phetamines
Got all this cheese, my wallet look cheddary
VV my ice, my diamonds December
Eliantte on the tennis remember
I know they prayed on my downfall
Look at the way that they hate on my ass know they fed up
I had to go get up
I keep a strap, the switch on Berettas
Wallet Bottega Veneta
Pull up in bimmer's and shit with my runners and steppers
I don't deliver the packs, know they still get delivered
I'm blessed because my runners get figures, I only hire go getters
I'm copping the S-class, copping the G-class, copping more letters
They asking, they beg for a feature
I'm sitting court side not in the bleachers
God would've made me 6'3" but he knew that I had to fit up in this 'Rari two seater
Wait because I'm stunting in this
My shirt is designer, no I am not f*cking in this
Money all hunnids and shit
I don't want no paper unless it got blue on the strips
FLEAU - RELOAD (feat. Kermode Zay, Busmn, Rob Buck, Jericho & Jae) Lyrics
FLEAU - RELOAD (feat. Kermode Zay, Busmn, Rob Buck, Jericho & Jae) Lyrics
Official
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Yo these trumpets got me feeling like I'm at the pearly gates
And that 0-60 make me think I'm in a f*cking race
And if he try to step to Zay, I gotta put him in his place
Red dot 'em like a Hindu and don't leave a f*cking trace, I set the pace
Got ahead and now I'm running on my own
And if you don't show love in person, please don't hit my f*cking phone
And now I'm sliding on the beat because I'm in my f*cking zone
Been grinding all my life and now I'm reaping what I've sewn, I set the tone
I set the bar and now I'm leaping even higher
Told Rob just pick a beat dawg, and throw me in the fire
And if I told you that I love you, my mom never raised a liar
So if yo feelings not reciprocated, no reason to inquire
I'm getting tired of this bullshit that they speaking on my name
Got two albums under my belt, talking like I run the game
F*cking your great auntie's daughter's sis 'cause shawty was a dame
Got some money in my pocket, things will never be the same
Late nights whipping in the Tesla, tryna save the gas for my lungs
Sipping on the brews when I'm hanging with the crew
I don't really f*ck with the Mountain Dew
Blew a .8 at the traffic stop, told the cop I don't really know what that's about
I don't really drink, I don't really smoke
Just got tatted with some ink, just bought my wife some ink
Just fixed my broken sink, call me Fix-It Felix the way I be fixing this shit
Call me Mr. Olympia, the way I be flexing this shit
Call me Einstein, the way this shit be perplexing
Let this be a lesson, don't f*ck with me or I'll bring the full press in
I'm an artist, I smoke the loudest
Got your bitch in the Stu' sucking dick, she a prowess
Now she mounting, yeah she wet like a fountain
Made me cum twice, I need a rest but now she pouting
So now I'm going ham again, titties so extravagant
Booty keep clapping back like I'm a f*cking magnet
Brain so insane, yo she even a graduate?
Way she bowing down feel like I received the sacrament
Yeah her hair so frizzy when I hit it from the back, yeah I get so dizzy
Now she gleaming up my glizzy, but wait hold up I gotta take a pissy
Now she let me hit it from the back again, no kizzy
Yeah her name was Lizzy, smoking hot like a chimney
Curves so spicy like some cinnamon
Back shots imminent, light her ass up like a filament
Smoking on grocery greens, ain't no cigarettes
My three like the heat 'cause there's no AC in the whip (aye)
I told my brother take my life if I go out about some bitch (aye)
He ain't know where she was at until he check her at the crib (aye)
He ain't know that was my chopper 'til he check under the grip
And my shit gotta click
My shit gotta hit, go like (boom boom boom boom boom)
I gotta reload that whole clip
And I guess he still got hit
I ain't lie about this shit
You can walk me through the x-ray, I got metal in my hip
I got metal in my pocket, I got money on my head (aye)
Too much stepping in the Forces they already turning red (aye)
If he lie about that shit, he already knew he dead (aye)
If he talking to the opps, I might leave his ass on read (aye)
And my shooter like a dog, I might give his ass a bone
And he might just pop a perky just to get up in his zone
If I f*ck with her, believe me I'll be f*cking all night long
If she tell me that she love me, then this not a love song
And it's not a love song, it's a getting money song
It's a f*cking bitches everyday and selling drugs song (aye)
It's a left her ass on read, if she ain't knew that was wrong
It's a left her yesterday, if I ain't f*cking with her tone (aye)
I ain't sniffing no ketamine
Bitch tryna change me, she make a better me
I know I'm vouching for all of these 'phetamines
Got all this cheese, my wallet look cheddary
VV my ice, my diamonds December
Eliantte on the tennis remember
I know they prayed on my downfall
Look at the way that they hate on my ass know they fed up
I had to go get up
I keep a strap, the switch on Berettas
Wallet Bottega Veneta
Pull up in bimmer's and shit with my runners and steppers
I don't deliver the packs, know they still get delivered
I'm blessed because my runners get figures, I only hire go getters
I'm copping the S-class, copping the G-class, copping more letters
They asking, they beg for a feature
I'm sitting court side not in the bleachers
God would've made me 6'3" but he knew that I had to fit up in this 'Rari two seater
Wait because I'm stunting in this
My shirt is designer, no I am not f*cking in this
Money all hunnids and shit
I don't want no paper unless it got blue on the strips
And that 0-60 make me think I'm in a f*cking race
And if he try to step to Zay, I gotta put him in his place
Red dot 'em like a Hindu and don't leave a f*cking trace, I set the pace
Got ahead and now I'm running on my own
And if you don't show love in person, please don't hit my f*cking phone
And now I'm sliding on the beat because I'm in my f*cking zone
Been grinding all my life and now I'm reaping what I've sewn, I set the tone
I set the bar and now I'm leaping even higher
Told Rob just pick a beat dawg, and throw me in the fire
And if I told you that I love you, my mom never raised a liar
So if yo feelings not reciprocated, no reason to inquire
I'm getting tired of this bullshit that they speaking on my name
Got two albums under my belt, talking like I run the game
F*cking your great auntie's daughter's sis 'cause shawty was a dame
Got some money in my pocket, things will never be the same
Late nights whipping in the Tesla, tryna save the gas for my lungs
Sipping on the brews when I'm hanging with the crew
I don't really f*ck with the Mountain Dew
Blew a .8 at the traffic stop, told the cop I don't really know what that's about
I don't really drink, I don't really smoke
Just got tatted with some ink, just bought my wife some ink
Just fixed my broken sink, call me Fix-It Felix the way I be fixing this shit
Call me Mr. Olympia, the way I be flexing this shit
Call me Einstein, the way this shit be perplexing
Let this be a lesson, don't f*ck with me or I'll bring the full press in
I'm an artist, I smoke the loudest
Got your bitch in the Stu' sucking dick, she a prowess
Now she mounting, yeah she wet like a fountain
Made me cum twice, I need a rest but now she pouting
So now I'm going ham again, titties so extravagant
Booty keep clapping back like I'm a f*cking magnet
Brain so insane, yo she even a graduate?
Way she bowing down feel like I received the sacrament
Yeah her hair so frizzy when I hit it from the back, yeah I get so dizzy
Now she gleaming up my glizzy, but wait hold up I gotta take a pissy
Now she let me hit it from the back again, no kizzy
Yeah her name was Lizzy, smoking hot like a chimney
Curves so spicy like some cinnamon
Back shots imminent, light her ass up like a filament
Smoking on grocery greens, ain't no cigarettes
My three like the heat 'cause there's no AC in the whip (aye)
I told my brother take my life if I go out about some bitch (aye)
He ain't know where she was at until he check her at the crib (aye)
He ain't know that was my chopper 'til he check under the grip
And my shit gotta click
My shit gotta hit, go like (boom boom boom boom boom)
I gotta reload that whole clip
And I guess he still got hit
I ain't lie about this shit
You can walk me through the x-ray, I got metal in my hip
I got metal in my pocket, I got money on my head (aye)
Too much stepping in the Forces they already turning red (aye)
If he lie about that shit, he already knew he dead (aye)
If he talking to the opps, I might leave his ass on read (aye)
And my shooter like a dog, I might give his ass a bone
And he might just pop a perky just to get up in his zone
If I f*ck with her, believe me I'll be f*cking all night long
If she tell me that she love me, then this not a love song
And it's not a love song, it's a getting money song
It's a f*cking bitches everyday and selling drugs song (aye)
It's a left her ass on read, if she ain't knew that was wrong
It's a left her yesterday, if I ain't f*cking with her tone (aye)
I ain't sniffing no ketamine
Bitch tryna change me, she make a better me
I know I'm vouching for all of these 'phetamines
Got all this cheese, my wallet look cheddary
VV my ice, my diamonds December
Eliantte on the tennis remember
I know they prayed on my downfall
Look at the way that they hate on my ass know they fed up
I had to go get up
I keep a strap, the switch on Berettas
Wallet Bottega Veneta
Pull up in bimmer's and shit with my runners and steppers
I don't deliver the packs, know they still get delivered
I'm blessed because my runners get figures, I only hire go getters
I'm copping the S-class, copping the G-class, copping more letters
They asking, they beg for a feature
I'm sitting court side not in the bleachers
God would've made me 6'3" but he knew that I had to fit up in this 'Rari two seater
Wait because I'm stunting in this
My shirt is designer, no I am not f*cking in this
Money all hunnids and shit
I don't want no paper unless it got blue on the strips
Writer: Jae Walters, Andrew Bussen, Robert Buckley, Jacob Johnson, Isaiah Gengembre
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Performed By: FLEAU
Language: English
Length: 5:00
Written by: Jae Walters, Andrew Bussen, Robert Buckley, Jacob Johnson, Isaiah Gengembre