Payday Lyrics

[Verse 1: TrDee]
I'm OT, somewhere chilling on the beach
Fly a lil' baddie out, only if you be discreet
Don't let the glasses fool you, I am not a geek
I'm the type to still run it up if I ain't have no feet
Dick put her straight to sleep, this some NyQuil
Still reminiscing 'bout the wounds that did not heal
Damn, this bitch thicker than some oatmeal
Please tell me how you slid down and ain't get no kill

[Verse 2: BabyTron]
Hunnid rounder, leave a Scat Pack with no wheels
I don't gotta let that bitch off, I bet bro will
Shooting layups but you miss them bitches? You got no skill
Have my shooters run the triangle like I'm coach Phil
I'm too blowed
Three-five of the White Runtz, this shit too strong
Bankroll sеven-seven likе Manute Bol
Push a button in the spaceship, now the coupe gone
[Verse 3: StanWill]
RIP Virgil, if I spin around, it's a X on me
In a bay, thirty in my clip, that's a Steph on me
Like it's payday, f*ck around, drop a check on me
Pull up, drop fifty, I ain't even gotta stretch on me
Drop a couple shells, f*ck around, get his taco blew
I don't like to wrestle, if it's up, put the Glock on you
Lil' bro ain't jamming 201s if he slide on you
You ain't doing shit for yo team, you don't lob no 'oops [Verse 4: TrDee]
Tryna get a mill', I don't care about popularity
They tryna rap like us like a parrot
Did the dash, she like, "Hold on stop, boy, you scaring me"
Pull up with one or seven hoes, Linsanity
Heard you out here running 'round like a headless chicken
Bent her over then I slammed dunk like I'm Miles Bridges
Niggas tryna take a mile? We'll give him inches
The money counter keep jamming, give me some assistance

[Verse 5: BabyTron]
Scam this, jam that, I don't sell grams
You headed towards work, I'm just waiting on the mailman
Off a V cut, I need a Phantom, hot as hell, man
Get the payment then I block his ass, can you spell "ham"?
B22s, Dior kicks, this Dior drip
Hotter than a f*ck, one me, I got four blicks
Got this shit up out the mud, wasn't born rich
Scam star, rap star, headed towards the Forbes list
[Verse 6: StanWill]
Push start the whip, hop in and I stab off
Pull up on her, Goose X Dior, she gon' grab balls
Been punching five plus, I been doing half offs
Swinging sticks at the opps like they throwing fast balls
Keep a sack, got the hoes tryna tackle me
Bitch put that crazy head on, she done baffled me
I was in school with more pape' than a faculty
In Miami I was hitting hoes with the plastic cheeks

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