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Song Lyrics
[Intro]
Ramyonthabeat.
[Don toliver]
Got p's on call I hit that lick
I got a bitch that's fine as shit
She pullin' up to juug the hit
Come with the bag and come split
Don't worry 'bout nothin' it's counterfeit
He has the chance, finesse the bitch
Move with no evidence
Just call me if he tests shit
Got p's on call I hit that lick
I got a bitch that's fine as shit
She pullin' up to juug the hit
Come with the bag and come split
Don't worry 'bout nothin' it's counterfeit
He has the chance, finesse the bitch
Move with no evidence
Just call me if he tests shit.
Now what I told you girl
Go get the bag and make that money
Shake that ass and keep it comin'
Set it up, gon' take some
Now what I told you girl
If he got a question, I don't know
He might be feds, and I ain't goin'
Undercover lying, you ain't even know
Now what I told you girl
Go get the bag, stack it up
Too much ass, back it up
Go get the coupe, and wrap it up
Now what I told you girl
If he on the phone, then he callin' law
You better run, and make a haul
You better snatch the bag and all
See I'm on aim, with precision
I ain't gon' lie, I got vision
Yeah, I got dope, in the kitchen
Book a hotel, when I'm whippin'.
Got p's on call I hit that lick
I got a bitch that's fine as shit
She pullin' up to juug the hit
Come with the bag and come split
Don't worry 'bout nothin' it's counterfeit
He has the chance, finesse the bitch
Move with no evidence
Just call me if he tests shit
Got p's on call I hit that lick
I got a bitch that's fine as shit
She pullin' up to juug the hit
Come with the bag and come split
Don't worry 'bout nothin' it's counterfeit
He has the chance, finesse the bitch
Move with no evidence
Just call me if he tests shit.
[Dice soho]
I got a freaky shit boss bitch
Got her own money she can talk shit
Chest still jumpin' like a mosh pit
Bentley truck, fuck with the top whip
Pop shit, my watch lit
So cold, I got sick
Diamonds hit hard like ... twins
Ninth grade recs in my cargo pants
Rodeo on a tuesday
You don't even know da amount I spent
Free my dawgs, hit a lick for a mil'
Bust it down with all my friends
All my hoes got my name on their body
Tryna turn a maserati to a bugatti
Made 'em learn to stretch like they're doin' pilates
Choppin' down trees and I don't know karate
Just got off the phone with ...
Smokin' with scotty
Hell yeah, the packs finally landed
God damn, I'm feelin' real jolly
We got drugs, we got bottles
We the life of the party
... on my drip, and that ain't hearty
And my niggas smoke like bob marley.
[Don toliver]
Got p's on call I hit that lick
I got a bitch that's fine as shit
She pullin' up to juug the hit
Come with the bag and come split
Don't worry 'bout nothin' it's counterfeit
He has the chance, finesse the bitch
Move with no evidence
Just call me if he tests shit
Got p's on call I hit that lick
I got a bitch that's fine as shit
She pullin' up to juug the hit
Come with the bag and come split
Don't worry 'bout nothin' it's counterfeit
He has the chance, finesse the bitch
Move with no evidence
Just call me if he tests shit.
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| Don Toliver Song Lyrics - On Call |
