2 Chainz, Lil Wayne & Benny the Butcher – Oprah & Gayle Lyrics

2 Chainz, Lil Wayne & Benny the Butcher – Oprah & Gayle Lyrics
Oprah & Gayle
2 Chainz, Lil Wayne & Benny the Butcher
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    Oprah & Gayle Album Art
    "Oprah & Gayle." - 2 Chainz, Lil Wayne & Benny the Butcher

    Album: Welcome 2 Collegrove
    Track No: 13
    Collegrove
    Checker board luggage, Ramen in the cupboard
    I left Art Basel with a sculpture
    You listenin' to the lyrical nunchuck, chuckle at dumbfucks
    Vocals warmed up, beyond Ford tough
    I kept my lawn cut, it's felon conduct
    I got my arm out the window of a armed truck
    It's Teamster Union when you hear the trucks roll up
    On Cleveland Avenue, made plays at the Kroger
    Came up on cold cuts, heart got a hole in it
    Bank got a roll in it
    The Cessna Citation came with a pole in it
    The Cullinan so big, it need a stove in it
    Now that's deep, I just dove in it
    The closet came with garage doors
    The Goyard is on all fours, I do this shit for encores
    I did this shit in Tom Ford, they said I'm wrong for it
    I'm so fly, I looked at her, and said, "Get on board"
    It's the man, it's the myth, in the midst of the mix with the M's on my mind, in Maui takin' pics
    Motivated by more, that mean I want more of this
    I want more jewelry, more cars, I want more cribs
    What you expect from a kid that grew up with his stomach touchin' his rib? Echos comin' from out the fridge
    Now papa was a rollin' stone, I thought you knew that
    Don't smoke no cig, but I'll shoot that, true fact
    Nah mean?
    My lighter Saint Laurent
    Yeah, that's Saint Laurent fire
    You gotta hold your hand mid air when you do a verse like this, yeah
    Uh, hoppin' out a slide out, runnin' through a walkthrough
    Coupe on big wheels like a pony wearin' horse shoes
    Tall money, short fuse, long money, long oohs
    Champagne Papi part two, she my cork screw
    Tattoos over war wounds, wrist look like it's on Zoom
    Neck look like anime or cartoons, art to 'em
    I got the spikes on the Gucci, look like Bart to 'em
    Gimme the Nikes, let me add some Comme des Garçon to 'em
    Stunt man, versus in my lunch bag, rappers on my launch pad
    Chopper make 'em do the Kriss Kross or make 'em jump dance
    Lump sums, want bands
    What's a young man without a check? Just a Jumpman, fuck that, Jordan meme
    I'ma sip some lean, get a Ting and go quarantine
    I'ma get some bling, let it bling like some Oil Sheen
    I'ma put some fuckin' princess cuts on the queen
    And I keep all the chin check stubs I redeem
    This our team, my regime, I'm higher bein'
    Purple smoke, fire green, sweet and sour cream, peakin' higher, now we towerin'
    Peak position, give my people power, now we power fiends
    It's addiction, feelin' like a boxer steppin' out the ring
    You swing, you missin', critically thinkin' 'bout the critics up in critical condition
    I'm in pitiful condition, scratch that, but who is itchin' Teamsters?
    The union did it, Tune and Tity, Young Money, T.R.U. Religion
    It's some Teamster shit
    This a Saint Laurent lighter, woo
    I got "stoner-virus", baby
    Her right there, she got "Patron-a-virus", mmm-hmm
    And her over there, she ain't let me fuck, so now she got "loner-virus", alright
    Aye, stop leasin', ****
    Gotta get that "homeowner-virus" like me
    Yo, they was laughin', but we was smart, drug traffickin', we was sharks
    I had to chase the paper down till we trapped the money in vaults, kinda crazy
    My last bid was the shortest, but she ain't wait for me
    Spent half my twenties in prison and aged gracefully
    For paper, you know we grind, place a wager and you'll be fine
    I put my fork down, now every major want me to sign
    Left the hood for Hollywood, it wasn't worth bein' famous
    But every chick got a Beamer and a personal trainer
    I'm into business moves, she into Paris fashion
    It cost me at least twenty grand a year on her hair an lashes
    Love I'd inherited, music was both of my parents' passion
    My name come up when you talkin' dope or comparin' classics
    Stare at me good, 'cause this how pressure look
    They want my spot, but tryna skip every step I took, I wish them the best of luck
    I asked a question, and he gave me an answer
    That still left the **** confused like Brady in Tampa
    Back home, I'm one of the narcos, semi autos
    Dodge fans like New York City potholes, yeah
    The OG's think that it's funny, money made me more hungry, 'cause majority wait till they chubby and then get comfy, nah
    You get that first taste, then you learn to appreciate all the risks you gotta take to turn a Ford to a Wraith
    I'm checkin' in on my hood, like, "I hope all is well"
    I'm still close to my scale, we like Oprah and Gayle
    You get a Rollie
    You get a Rollie
    You get a Rollie
    You get a Rollie
    Everybody gets a Rollie
    You get a Rollie
    You get a Rollie
    You get a Rollie too
    Everybody gets a Rollie

    Writer(s): Tauheed Epps, Lil Wayne, Aldrin Davis, Jeremie Damon Pennick & Angela Bofill.

    All lyrical content displayed on this website is the intellectual property of its respective copyright holders. No ownership is implied, and no copyright infringement is intended.

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