Top Floor 2 Lyrics

I'm on that top floor shit, man You can't even get in

Like what do you mean brand new glock get to glitchin

Niggas all talk but no i never Listen

All black for the fit on my jacket, It's Christian Dior

Fuck her then I'm out the door

Now she callin' me a whore

Sorry baby, took her right to the Store

Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe

You are watching a master at work

What! What! What! What! (Top floor bitch)

Huh? (Im onnat Top Floor Shi)

Huh? (What)

Go, Go, Go, Go

I'm on that top floor shit, man you can't even get in

Like, what do you mean brand New Glock get to glitchin

Niggas all talk, but no I never listen

All black for the fit on my jacket It's Christian Dior

Fuck her, then I'm out the door

Now she callin' me a whore

Sorry, baby, I took her right to the store

Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe

I do this shit in my sleep (Do it in my sleep)

My name Ringin' bells, I swerved this bitch right off the lot

You woulda thought i was Yeat

No Jimmy I'm packin the heat, a nigga run up, I'm hitting delete

Im sippin' that motherfuckin wocky, im outta my body like Bitch im so geeked

Huh lets run up 10 bands in a week (Huh)

If a nigga aint talking bout money, these niggas be funny do not talk to me

Cause I got a brand new *****

And that bitch came with a beam

Spanish bitch, think her name *****

She do whatever I please

She understand right when I leave, cause she know im chasin the cheese

I'm on that top floor shit, man you can't even get in

Like, what do you mean, brand new Glock get to glitchin'

Niggas all talk, but no I never listen

All black for the fit on my jacket Its Christian Dior

Fuck her, then I'm out the door

Now she callin' me a whore

Sorry,baby I took her right to the store

Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe

Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe

She rockin' Patek Phillip

Bitch, I'm too hot, like 200 degrees

I'm droppin' the top on the wraith, feel the breeze

I running this shit, man, I do it with ease

Got freaky bitches all the way overseas

I'm on that top floor shit, man you can't even get in

Like, what do you mean, brand new Glock get to glitchin'

Niggas all talk, but no I never listen

All black for the fit on my jacket it's Christian Dior

Fuck her, then I'm out the door

Now she callin' me a whore

Sorry, baby, I took her right to the store

Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe

I do this shit in my sleep (Do it in my sleep)

My name Ringin' bells, I swerved this bitch right off the lot

You woulda thought i was Yeat

No Jimmy I'm packin the heat, a Nigga run up, I'm hitting delete

Im sippin' that motherfuckin wocky, im outta my body like bitch im so geeked

Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)

Shit! (Woa)

Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)

Shit! (Woa)

Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)

Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)