Part 1: Talk to Me Nice
Talk to me nice, set the mood off in here
Still downtown, whole crew’s up in here
All the dogs with me, make it hard just to move up in here
Like is it the right time, baby?
This is the right time
Pour up a white wine
All of these bands on me
Like it’s a lifeline
Givenchy for all of my niggas
We pull up in slippers, in nighttime
Fuckin’ bitches in the white robes
Let me know that it’s the right time
All my niggas, they be reppin’ it
Red bottom when I step in it
Niggas with me, gotta let ’em in
Sos with me, that’s a definite
Nyce with me, that’s a definite
Now you met up with the dogs
Gotta fuck ’em all ‘fore you meet the President
Walked in, all cleaned up
Man whole clique on bust down
Walked in, got 2 “W”s
Now I look like touchdown
Pulled up in the i8
With a shirt sayin’, “Why hate?”
Niggas talkin’, I’ma violate
Bitch I’m fuckin’ up the tristate
Uh, Givenchy for all of my niggas
2017, we ain’t leavin’ a cent on the table
For all of you niggas
Be comin’ for all of the figures
I’m fuckin’ all of your bitches
Don’t even call em your bitches
And baby, I’m all in Givenchy
Talk to me nice, set the mood off in here
Still downtown, whole crew’s up in here
All the dogs with me, make it hard just to move up in here
Like is it the right time, baby?
Part 2: Fargo Season
Fargo, Estefan Fargo
S.T.E
Yeah, Fargo
S.T.E
Yeah, I heard word around town is I’m poppin’ now
Bad bitch, recline my seat before she top me down
Just invested in two choppers and they on me now
Bitch, all you heard was ‘grr grr’ when I’m hoppin’ out
Put them bitches in a Range Rove’
Hit a mission with my niggas, then I change clothes
Niggas runnin’ for that paper-like Usain Bolt
You hit my bitch, I fuck your girl, that’s how the game go
You know how that sayin’ go
Girl, you know I’m poppin’ off
Give me head and make sure you make that shit sloppy now
If you with it, you gon’ meet me at the lobby now
Say you not, but girl, I know that you are probably down
Now what you talkin’ ’bout?
What you talkin’ ’bout?
Never do we get the time, but tonight feels right, yeah
What you talkin’ ’bout?
Never do we get the time, but tonight feels
Like the Blue Jays
New Toronto bitch, we ballin’ on your blu-rays
I’ve been mobbin’ round the city for like two days
Stashin’ all this dirty money in the suitcase, woah
Don’t you know that we got plenty choppers?
Any bitch inside my kitchen cook like Betty Crocker
Niggas say that they gon’ rob me, bitch, don’t make me stop you
Uncle Speedy, B.M.F., he down to let it drop you
They like…
Hit G Weed on the cellphone
Make that call from Compton, they’ll be out on Melrose
Trained shooters and they down to touch the railroad
And they down to do you colder than the hail snow, woah
That shit tell you that I’m poppin’ now
When I pull up in that Wraith, it ain’t no talkin’ now
Hater niggas talkin’ payments but I bought it, wow
Reason why when I pull up, them bitches hoppin’ out, yeah
Now what you talkin’ ’bout?
What you talkin’ ’bout?
Never do we get the time, but tonight feels right, yeah
What you talkin’ ’bout?
Never do we get the time, but tonight feels right, yeah
I’m rollin’ downtown, I feel so alone
And this time I feel like I like it, yeah
I roll alone downtown and I like it, yeah
Listen
Word around my city is I’m poppin’ now, yeah
Bitch, don’t make no moves in here, just top me down, yeah
You was talkin’ shit but now you ridin’ dick, you ain’t slick
Why I keep a couple HO, HO’s like I’m Saint Nick
I just got the Benzo back, you niggas outta luck though
You say that’s your main girl, then why she tryna fuck for?
My chain on scammer, big T Montana
Withdraw like diamond, my bitch on Pamela
Came through on a hot block with the top drop and the diamonds
Stain blue on the hot block in a drop-top and I’m shinin’
Pocket rocket on me if a nigga wanna creep up on it with recliner
Starin’ in my rear-view if a nigga tryna creep up on me from behind me
Certain niggas tryna text me
Play them niggas like a bass flute
All you niggas is some waste yutes
Boy I will come and erase you
Lookin’ like I’m in the city slappin’, cockin’, clickin’ up like I’m Nino
If he treat the forty-fifth it split him out and singin’ to me like Selena
Oh no don’t approach me
‘Cause I got that thing on me, and that shit loaded
Hope you fuck niggas get shot all out your sneakers
Got some real niggas they watching from the bleachers
And you know my shooters don’t come in no Ubers
‘Cause they can’t hop back inside ’em when they shoot ya
That’s word to Hollywood soldiers
I mean you know what kind of sauce this is when you smell it, baby
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