SRT Lyrics

This bitch fast between her legs, a hellcat, that's a SRT

Tryna count my money, by my lonely bitch, leave me be

I'm tryna ball out with my dawgs, let me be me

I don't know what you heard about me, bitch, I'm a P.I.M.P

Like Baskin-Robbins with the Za, gettin' high, smokin' thirty-one Flavors

In the Versace robe, on the block with my rich white neighbor

I had to serve him news that his bitch was deliverin' paper

Stand on top of all my money, stack taller than skyscrapers

You Hella hard behind the keyboard, but gon run when you see us

If he think I'm playin' with him, fuck him, I'll introduce him to Jesus

I've been countin' up chicken McNuggets by the fifty piece

If the bitch want an appearance by me, I need ten at least

I threw my wrist up in the air, now it's a light show

Before I fuck with the bitch, gotta run her FICO

I hit the bitch with dope dick, she goin' psycho

I heard you said you gettin' money, that's a typo

Fuckin' off a check, then get another check

Whisper ism in her ear, made her pussy wet

If you ain't got no money for me, get the cold shoulder

Bleed her feet like Flintstones, we got big boulders

Ice up on my neck, that's a rocky road

Nutted on her face, she had a afterglow

Got it out the mud, that's a sloppy roll

Like my ten toes on the ground, bitch, it's on the floor

Let me see you pop your ass and drop it to a split

I'm in the VIP with thotty bitches and I'm gettin' lit

Got hoes linin' up like covid, got these suckas sick

If she don't believe in my vision, then it's fuck the bitch

I can write a book, trap memoirs

Caravan back to back in bulletproof cars

Pullin' bands out a G-string, I'm a rock star

I'ma take a flight to Poland, first class sippin' Wockhardt