Lyrics of Ham music

Uhh
Meek milly (yeah, yeah)
Philly in this bitch (yeah)
Yeah
Leggo, uh

They ain't fucking with me, new orleans n-o
Old school bitch i let her blow me like nintendo
Black panamera me & maggo getting litto
Switching lanes in that thang 5 percet on the window
I got 20 on my pocket, 30 on wrist, 50 on my neck keep it 100 in this bitch
Hey listen we don't do no talking, i'm just running up in your shit
And i was never in the walking, i'm just running up in your bitch
I said my swagger on the fitted money in the limit
Real nigga every day, startin to the finish
You should hear this rarri when i'm starting up the engine
Sounding like a motherfucker lion barking all up in it
Make a dollar every second, thousands on an hour
20 every day, i'm getting money in the power
I was told never let the youngest get the powder
But now these niggers slipping like they fucking in the shower, pause
I really do this, i'm 62'n with ricky ross
I'm getting to it, you niggers losin shit, i'm a boss
Yeah i took a loss, i was out in vegas
Me and gucci pouchie shooting at the table
When i was broke, i used to have a dream
Before i had a dream best believe i had them fiends
Steady blowing up my celly, trying to get it any means
Nigga smootchie in the kitchen working up the triple beans
Breakin ounces off the birdie, money it was dirty
And hammers they was filthy cause niggers was trying to kill me
And that's word to osama though, fuck a bitch then (?)
Niggers in they diss rap when no drama though
Leaning off the prometh sipping at your mama though
Rollie your bus down, call the perfect timing though
Tell my jeweler freeze me, just to change the climate hoe
Bottom of the mountain & meek milly got the climate on
Your chick my chick, my chick your chick,
My swag fly shit, your swag, norbit
Nigger you a weirdo, no match forfeit
All these fuckin bricks i'm thinkin we gonn need a forklift
Coolest on your stereo, i don't think they hear me though
Catch me in the hood, i'll be around it like a merri go
Used to sell them little o's i ain't talking cheerio's
I'm talking about them golden grams and i don't mean no cereal
Murder on your record label nigger i'm a serial
Killer plus i'm realer this is scarier than thriller
In the villa countin scrilla with shawty she vanilla
Far as work i make that fuckin butter-fly like catepillars
And my flow be on some other shit
Hotter than a oven get
I just got his girl's number
He gonna need another bitch
Make her fuck my other bitch then put her on a punishment
She said she's n love with me and she don't know my government
Ha, shawty tripping where your luggage at
Broke niggas never see me cause i'm where the money at
All i know is hustle hard like i got a hundred pack
Nigga get my jewels i'ma kill em i dont want em back
Wear it to your funeral be stuntin while they viewin you
Mama lookin over she like what the hell they did to you?
Clip full of hollow heads make me put a few in you
Yeah nigga i will ruin you. haa