Cheeze Toucherz ft. PlayShrpJ Lyrics

One, get off yo' ass and go chase some paper

Two, shine bright as fuck like the star player

Three, gotta pull strings like a harp player

Four, line yo' bread up like a new taper

Five, run that shit up 'til the crackers mad

Six, fill yo' bowl up with a bunch of racks

Seven, milk all that shit like it's Apple Jacks

Eight figures in the bank, now yo' ass got a bag

Bad hoes tryna eat me up

Road dome in the Scat Pack, that's demon tongue

Forty points at halftime, y'all better D me up

Big ass phone, you would think I got a PC tucked

Sick as hell, don't catch Corona

Ghetto ass Asian bitches finna put the yak in boba

I want all the green, I'm tryna catch some Yodas

Bitch think I'm Yeat, I got a turban, I'll wrap in on her

Fucked up, went and wrapped my neck in some ice rocks

When I get hot, I'ma ball out in Icebox

Huh, yeah, nigga, why not?

Bitch pussy trash as fuck, feel like a sandbox Gave the bitch the blues and I left the Bitch clueless

Bitch mad 'cause I took my new bitch straight to Ruth's Chris

Bitch hit my phone, I'm like, "Aye bitch,

Who this?"

Me and Nanii ran up hella songs, they like "Ouu shit"

You chasin' all these hoes, you money-phobic

Me, I be ballin' hella hard like I run with Jokic

You spent yo' last check on something golden

Me, I just spent pocket change on something frozen

Told that bitch, "Move bitch", I feel like Ludacris

We got racks, you would think we got boobs and shit

Mind of a vet, you would think I ain't new to this

You a lil' rook, I'ma show you how to do this shit

One, get off yo' ass and go chase some paper

Two, shine bright as fuck like the star player

Three, gotta pull strings like a harp player

Four, line yo' bread up like a new taper

Five, run that shit up 'til the crackers mad

Six, fill yo' bowl up with a bunch of racks

Seven, milk all that shit like it's Apple Jacks

Eight figures in the bank, now yo' ass got a bag

Bitches used to run from me 'cause I had the Cheese Touch

Now, they runnin' back 'cause a nigga really

Touch cheese

Hehe, can we fuck please?

Blow her back down told the bitch get up off her knees

Kicked the bitch out and the bitch walked

Casual

Brought her right back and I killed her, she a casualty

RIP to the pussy, brutality

I'm finna finish that bitch, fatality

Ride around town with my tints, I look suspicious

Whole gang dripped up, like I just took 'em fishin'

Finna pull a Elon, them Teslas look efficient

I'm rich, put my right hand on the book of Christians

My bro punch so much that he iced his hand

Fire ass pieces, you better call a fireman

Same ones you feed are the same ones to bite yo' hand

.44 Bulldog, that shit finna bite yo' mans

Nigga, do you know what that'll do to you?

It'll rip through yo' guts, nigga, now you smell like tofu

Round 5, fed him to the demons now

He soul food

She like boy you fine I'm like, "Yeah, bitch, you so true"

Picked the bitch up and I slammed her, she was tight as hell

Filled her up with every drop, yeah, she a wishing well

Huh, yeah, nigga can't you tell?

Bitch playing with my wand, yeah, like she castin' spells

I got my own sound, I don't need to bite you

Oldheads stuck in they prime, they peaked in high school

Got tunnel vision, boy, I can't even see the rivals

Eyes low in Paris, boy, I can't even see the Eiffel

John Cena with the ski mask, boy, you cannot see me

That boy a bitch, I'm finna put that tran on T.V.

Redbone got the drip drop like a splash of Fiji

Don't make a solo song, boy, you trash you need me