Текст Tory Lanez – Ambitions As A Ridah Freestyle

I gets green like Jack and the Beanstalk
And I do them hoes stone cold, Steve Austin
You ain’t talkin’ ’bout money, then you bluff or cheap talkin’
My team often tell me that we flossin’
Off in G4s, just, yeah, send reinforcements
Got crazy divas in my ish
And my car strapped like it’s baby seaters in the whip
I don’t play nowadays, bitches treatin’ for a trick
Keep it money over bitches, won’t repeat it for a chick
Yes, fresh all-white Adidas in the whip
And if you’re talkin’ ’bout weed then Orangina is my shit
A couple grand for a feature is a bitch
I’d hate to be you but you would love to be this
Peep this G shit, T Lanez, G shit
I bring the wave to them haters, make them haters seasick
All the diamonds legit, all vagina we pick
With your girl in my livin’ room playin’ WiiFit
Get popped like three zits then shot like three flicks
And my kicks Asian like Kimora Lee’s tits, yeah
Tell the waiter she can order me this
We’s rich, we don’t even act accordingly
It’s the Mr. Nigga-Pick-Out-Your-Arteries, bitch
I wish a nigga would try to slaughter me
Follow me, Twitter bitch
If you ain’t got it, girl, get it, bitch
Make the bitch make you rich, sorta like that player shit

‘Cause nowadays women only wanna play a pimp
They get the major, get paper, then play the pimp
That’s why fly by, I be like, «Fuck a bitch»
After I fuck the bitch, I be like, «Fuck the bitch»
I run game, no cutter glitch, somethin’ rich
Not tryna fuck, I’m tryna get head from your chick
And real talkin’, I don’t do it for the people
Fly through it I’m Knievel, Swine Flu, you need a needle
Car doors writin’ suicide letters to the people
I ain’t cool wit’ the eagle, my juice call me beetle
Uh, beat it like I beat the pussy
Here’s the heater, nigga, eat it like you eat the pussy
And y’all yappin’, y’all never brought a heater to me
So long nappin’ if they never brought the sleeper to me
They like, «Aw man, Tory Lanez be that Tarzan»
Pay him four grand, leave him laid up in a far land
Tory garage like a farm, baby, all Lambs
With no mirage, all menage, baby, all them
With no Nicki, nigga, bitches rollin’ with me
So much grands in my pants that my pants can’t fit me
So dance with me, I’m the black Lance Ricky
‘Cause I’m somewhere out in Houston, I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Whitney
I jam swiftly, baddest bitches can’t get me
Now these hoes payin’ me to even let them stand with me
Damn it pans out, like highlighters I stand out
Boom, like retirement homes, I bring them grams out
And this is just a verse of what the man’s ’bout
So keep talkin’, boy the whole shit’s planned out
Yup, I ride on ’em like a G2
Plus, I’m the smellin’ like the shit, baby P.U
I’m on my P.Q.s, karats look pre-juiced
Grab your chick, yeah, and do the grown shit we do
Yeah, see I’m up ready from the zone, bitch
So, pay me and get murdered on yo’ own shit, nigga
Got your bitch in my knapsack