Pouya, Fat Nick - Seven Figure Habits

Ayo Lil Mexico, pass the gas They want the old Fat Nick, back on bullshit Popped a lot of percs now I pop a lot of Glocks If you see a bad bitch, I fucked her and all her friends I spent my money on some guns, got some diamonds and some drip This a seven figure habit, [?] can't get a casket I been rich for way too long, these is facts, I don't be braggin' See that Porsche roof drop, 556 pop Every IG model want my dick but they get cropped In the club twenty bottles of that Hen' I pop 'em off In the streets, thirty clip, who or where, we let 'em off This a big body, we spin on anybody And we ain't movin' half bricks, wе talkin' big money The Hellcat makе a lot of noise, sound like a Glock shot Your man, he talk a lot of shit but he a broke fuck Sendin' opps to the grave by the dump truck If you the last man standin' have the pole tucked It's a blitz when I pull up, ZZ Corvette when I pull off If that bitch ain't suckin' dick I tell that hoe to pause and skrrt off You broke, don't want no issues My pistol come with some tissues These perkies don't make me miss you You thuggin' so keep it with you Remix Sprite, yeah, these bullets might, yeah These diamonds bright, yeah, keep duckin' it's on sight, yeah Road runnin' demon, chop a pack, ain't never catch me lackin' Ain't need no scammin' just to get my bands up, what I'm stackin' Baby Bone put 24's on that Vogue You bitches still whippin' Volvos Fanboys take photos Hoes take they clothes off and offer me blowjobs for nothin' You expect me not to accept? How you get me naked and then you come for my neck? Every move I make is calculated, all for the set As the hate grows, as do the bankrolls So we keep everything from MAC-10s to flamethrowers Too deep in the HV yellin' "why the fuck you hate me?" I just wanna make my money and music and live safely So I keep it off safety Know my enemies wanna take me Six feet underneath the ground but it don't fuckin' phase me Yeah I walk a tightrope knowin' one day I will fall off But until then, keep the gloves on Might hit a fuckboy with a crowbar Then run away like I was Olaf I peeled off in a minivan I'm feelin' like I'm Jackie Chan I do my stunts, I stack my bands I split it up with friends and fam I thank the Lord for all my fans, yuh I pray I'm never broke again I've been through hell and back again I'll never let the devil in my soul A hundred bands for the Benz Runnin' over picket fences Potholes and bullet holes, put fuckboys in trenches I got goals I gotta reach before I'm 37 Bitch it's Kevin, motherfucker Give a fuck about a reverend, only prayin' to myself, yuh