Drake & 21 Savage – Rich Flex Lyrics

Rich Flex

Drake & 21 Savage

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"Rich Flex." - Drake & 21 Savage

Tuesday, 20 October 2026, 04:41 pm

Album: Her Loss

Track No: 01

Go buy a zip of weed, hit the club
Pay for 'bout ten **** to get in
We crunk, lit, in this bitch, yeah
Know we walk around the world
Steppin', not givin' a damn 'bout where our feet land at, yeah
Get your ass mushed, smooshed (6ix)
Yeah, 21, the biggest
Put a **** in the chicken wing, pussy
21, can you do somethin' for me? (21)
Can you hit a lil' rich flex for me? (21)
And 21, can you do somethin' for me? (21, 21)
Drop some bars to my pussy ex for me
Then 21, can you do somethin' for me? Yeah (21)
Can you talk to the opps necks for me? (Okay)
21, do your thing, 21, do your thing (21)
Do your thing, 21, do your thing
Yellow diamonds in the watch, this shit cost a lot
Never send a bitch your dot, that's how you get shot
I DM in Vanish Mode, I do that shit a lot
Took her panties off and this bitch thicker than the plot
All my exes ain't nothin', them hoes busted
If my opps ain't rappin', they ass duckin'
You ain't ready to pull the trigger, don't clutch it
I know you on your period, baby, can you suck it?
I'm a savage (21)
Smack her booty in Magic (21, 21)
I'll slap a pussy **** with a ratchet (Pussy)
I might slap a tracker on his whip and get the addy (Pussy)
Don't call me on Christmas Eve, bitch, call your daddy (21)
Bitch, call your uncle, bitch, don't call me (21, 21)
Always in my ear, your ho a flea (Fuck)
Why my opps be posting guns and only use they feet? (21)
Paid like an athlete, I got—
All you hoes, all of you hoes need to remember who y'all talkin' to
It's a Slaughter Gang CEO
I got dick for you if I'm not workin', girl
If I'm busy, then fuck no
You need to find you someone else to call
When your bank account get low, you need to find you someone—
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
I'm on that Slaughter Gang shit, aye, murder gang shit, aye
Slaughter Gang shit, aye, murder gang shit, aye
Sticks and stones, chrome on chrome
That's just what a **** on
Internet clones, got 'em kissin' through the phone
Pussies cliquin' up so they don't feel alone, aye
Nan' **** seein' me, I'm Young Money CMB
I used to roll with CMG, the house is not a BNB
The bad bitches waitin' on a **** like I'm PND
I'm steady pushin' P, you **** pushing PTSD
I told her ass to kiss me in the club, fuck a TMZ
I used to want a GMC when Woe was doing BNE
We revvin' up and goin' on a run like we DMC
I layup with her for a couple days, then it's BRB
You rappers love askin' if I fucked, when you know we did
When you know we did
She came in heels but she left out on her cozy shit
Aye, I'm livin every twenty-four like Kobe did
Shoutout to the 6ix, R.I.P. to 8
Swear this shit is gettin' ate, I'm on ten for the cake
Get a lot of love from twelve, but I don't reciprocate
Fifty-one division stay patrollin' when it's late
21 my addy, so the knife is on the gate
All the dawgs eatin' off a Baccarat plate
**** see Drake and they underestimate
Take it from a vet, that's a rookie ass mistake, aye
Ah, ah
Slaughter Gang shit, aye, murder gang shit, aye
Slaughter Gang shit, aye, murder gang shit, aye
Slaughter Gang shit, aye, murder gang shit
On God
Boy, look, you the motherfuckin' man, boy, you, ooh
You is the man, you hear me?

Writer(s): Aubrey Drake Graham, S. Bin Abraham-Joseph, A. Hernandez, T. B. Chambers, M. Mule, I. De Boni, J. Gwin, C. Bernstein, Megan Pete, B.D. Session Jr., A. G. White, G. Hayes, C Harris & A. Davis.

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