Hidden Hits September Part 2

Chris Paul

Produced By Malachi

(Lyrics)
Yeah
Bring my shit back, bitch
Four finger ring on my hand, bitch, damn 
Draco just too hot to handle (krr)
Let that hoe fly til I jam it, damn
Hoe can’t een dodge when I’m ramming (krr)
Cut that brick with a Karambit, damn
Cook that bitch up in a pot bitch, uh
Cook that hoe up in a pan bitch, yeah
I got a whole lot of fans bitch 
These niggas act like my fam, bitch, uh
Damn, drum on that bitch like a fan bitch (ffrr)
Drip on me from foreign lands bitch,uh 
Too much hate in this world, I can’t stand it 
I been just tryna do what I can, bitch, yeah

You can bet on me, bitch, like the moneyline
You can flake on me just like I’m average, promise you that we not linking another time
I’m the one who made gold out of sand, I told you I got you, then nigga my word is bond
And I’m holding this shit in my hand, I look in the mirror and say that the world is mine
And I’m taking these packs in the air, I open the bag and you know that the odor mine
And I’m taking that Hemi hereNthere, engine gon’ jump out that bitch with no motor mounts
‘Cus it took me a minute to get here, I cannot be by your side when you go down
And I’m spilling that swag hereNthere, but its ok I got way more to go round 

Yeah I got way more to go round 

All on my own
I gotta walk this path til I cant no more
I gave niggas every pass, but I can’t no more, ahh
I got real proof that my swag can put a nigga on 
My plug having flavors like Menchie’s, what you want 
My hoe way, way too friendly, like fuck that, uh
No 1900, I was hanging with Rugrats though 
We would leave at lunch and hit up every damn store 

Uh 
What 
Hold onn
Yeah
Bring my shit back, bitch
Four finger ring on my hand, bitch, damn
Bitch think she too hot to handle, damn
I take a trip to Miami, damn (Hold on)
Serve out that pack, call it candy, damn
Serving some bars, not the xannies, damn
I need that Benz, fuck a Grammy, damn
Show tonight, whole documentary
And that shit turnt, foe, we need us an Emmy
Why would you turn on your team when we winning
I could just turn on that beam and just grill ‘em
Or turn on the heat on the seats when I’m chilling 
I turn up the heat in this shit, they can feel it 
I need all my cheese in this bitch with no Philly (Oh yeah)

Yeah
Bring my shit back, bitch
Four finger ring on my hand, bitch, damn 
Draco just too hot to handle (krr)
Let that hoe fly til I jam it, damn
Hoe can’t een dodge when I’m ramming (krr)
Cut that brick with a Karambit, damn
Cook that bitch up in a pot bitch, uh
Cook that hoe up in a pan bitch, yeah
I got a whole lot of fans bitch 
These niggas act like my fam, bitch, uh
Damn, drum on that bitch like a fan, bitch (ffrr)
Drip on me from foreign lands bitch,uh 
Too much hate in this world, I can’t stand it 
I been just tryna do what I can, bitch, yeah

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