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作词 : Dwayne Carter/Dimitri Roger/Brytavious Lakeith Chambers
作曲 : Dwayne Carter/Dimitri Roger/Brytavious Lakeith Chambers
Could have bought a house
but I bought a Jesus piece
Could have thought they were the feds how they stalkin' me
Could have put her in Chanel
she from overseas
Could have bought a Plain Jane
but her wrist freeze
Pocket full of Maserati
full of swiss cheese
Could have pulled up on a Jet, but did the Jet Skis
X pills triple stacked like Wendy's
Walkin' round with the 9 like I'm Drew Brees
Shootin' those boys, takin' Mickey D's
Tunechi in the lamb truck
I'm in the Bentley B
You was tryna' get a deal
I told him "Sign to me"
All my niggas Rich Forever
how it gotta be
Wait, all you niggas bitch forever, you can't lie to me
Better go and get your Reverend
let the choir sing
Goin' hard like a wedding on a Diamond ring
AR keep spinnin' like a slot machine
Now a nigga Rich Forever, they gon' call me
Coach, put me in the game, I've been balling
I was countin' up the hundreds till the morning
We was getting to them racks while they snoring
Tryna make a mill'
that's easy
Bought a brand new Patek
all water, that's Fiji
The niggas who hatin', they really wan' be me
You see that I'm Rich
back then didn't believe me
Bitch stop, it's lonely at the top
I just heard my ears pop
A fiend for the guap, like Pookie Chris Rock
**** her for some Gucci socks
She gon' have to run the top, for the flip flops
Yeah, boy stop
Run up on the opp
I just saw his heart drop
My bitches on the base
I feel like a shortstop
And I just caught a case
I'ma still ball out
Till I ain't got no more fouls
Now a nigga Rich Forever
they gon' call me
Coach, put me in the game
I've been balling
Tryna make a mill', that's easy
The niggas who hatin'
they really wan' be me
You see that I'm Rich, back then didn't believe me
I get the bag and go straight to the plug
And I buy his ass out
And now it's a drought
**** on my hoe tilI I tire her ass out
My watch face drippin'
I had to ask it "What you cryin' about?"
Flyin' her out
She get back home she be runnin' her mouth
Pick a Bugatti up
put the Cullinan down
Tell your friends I'll fly every one of them down
Put 'em on a jet
tell 'em meet me in the islands
Said she wanna **** me and all of my diamonds
My shooter from the trenches
got a chain, yeah, he shinin'
Let Gram drive the Bentley and he crashed on the mileage
I'm Rich like **** it
If I gotta bring your friend, then she ****in'
I was broke that hoe left somethin'
Haters talkin' 'bout a whole lot of nothin'
Bitch stop
it's lonely at the top
I just felt my ears pop
A friend for the guap, like Pookie Chris Rock
Pull up on the jet, jet skis, or yacht
Broke bitches that's a pet peeve, call blocked
Pockets like they got hickeys, all knots
We just go to war
no keys, warlock
Ran up on the opp
saw that boy heart drop
Bitches on the base
I just caught a case
but I still ball out
Trust Fund