Ruth's Chris Lyrics

Marc Boomin, It's you

I'm the hardest

Label just asked how much I needed out the bank

Had to tell him they got a mil due like my clothes stank

Feds want me to write a statement, had to leave the paper blank

Lil bro in the pen, he was stuck on them bowls like doing a plank

Spent 500 on a Gucci robe just to walk through the house

You probably dusty, ain't got no clothes just like Waffle House

Moneybagg Yo, this Benz I got, got a big speaker

I be at the crib chilling while y'all at the functions, math teacher

Yeah

Endzone, this money I pile on, football game

You poor, I'm in a different class, like my schedule changed

Just had a deuce, tomorrow I'm leaving a eight, pool game

Me and you can be bowling, I'ma still end up in a different lane

Lames be on the gram, swear that weed be having them shaking

You ain't high, your plug be selling you Bama, Nick Saban

Just today, I made ten bands, look at God's creation

Had more money than your grandaddy while sitting at graduation

Yeah, only time I hold my tongue is when I'm trying to get my shoe on

Be in the burbs with the white folks playing cup pong

Seven hour drive trying to dodge the hook like a short song

When people have their problems, all they want to do is run to me

They never save, all they do is buy, number one seed

Don't be with Cashgang, but this new mansion came with a big key

Givenchy coat, trying to get a tailored, like swift

My young bull, trying to get some guns, but he don't lift

Chewing tobacco, gotta get my money, then I dip

Stop capping, some pants, only time you ever seen a zip

Got a preposition, so my account got a new edition, gotta stop sipping

Ruth's Chris think I scam the way I'm tipping

All my clothes designer, all I do is pay overseas shipping

Two ears, one mouth, want some pape, just listen