So Fly

Meek Mill

Album Flamers 3: The Wait Is Over

J-Jungle Beats… holla at me
Grand Hustle Nigga… money

Chorus

You know me, I’m so fly
Be lookin like money every time I ride by
Got them Benjis in my pocket and money on my mind
If it ain’t about no paper, then it ain’t about I
Cause I get-get-get it, money I get
When I step up in the club, I be feelin like Mitch
When I be in the hood, I be ridin with your bitch
You know she prolly on my dick ’cause I’m prolly the shit

Verse 1

Listen, I’ma ball til I fall, spit it like I print it
Got shawty on the low ’cause I get-get-get it
Don’t worry ’bout it, I probably just hit it
I ain’t stubborn with them hoes, you can have her back, nigga
I’m a boss, shit, everything I does, I do
I don’t even wanna buy it if I can’t cop two
If it ain’t about no paper, then it ain’t about who?
Ain’t about I, ’cause I be on my grind
I’m a Trap-A-Holic, my niggas be ballin
You niggas be fraudin’, I spit like I’m retarded
You niggas know the deal, I be ridin’ Martian
Pull up in a spaceship, shit on you like a toilet
Them bitches be like “aw damn,” haters gotta smell my shit
Red horse on my shirt, red stripes on my kicks
Put that Porsche shit to work, Boxster pop a slip
Slide through your hood like, “Hater, what’s good?”

Chorus

You know me, I’m so fly
Be lookin like money every time I ride by
Got them Benjis in my pocket and money on my mind
If it ain’t about no paper, then it ain’t about I
Cause I get-get-get it, money I get
When I step up in the club, I be feelin like Mitch
When I be in the hood, I be ridin with your bitch
You know she prolly on my dick ’cause I’m prolly the shit

Verse 2

I say I got my first bit of money thought I knew it all
Went to MIA, South Beach, blew it all
Came back to the hood trappin super hard
Super down, look at me now, Superstar
In dat black on black Charger rims soy sauce
Bunch of diamonds in my chain, the wrist
Bitches gimmie head and tail like a quater toss
Cause I just signed to grand hustle I’m for sure to ball
I say we be the freshest, jewelry be VVS-ing
Caddy be DTS-ing, like Khaled, shit, we the best
And I tell them hoes I don’t wanna talk, just leave a message
Automatic stash boxes so they can’t see the weapons
But I be GT reppin Grand Hustle, the muscle
No we don’t love these whores, I just love when I fuck ’em
No I don’t tuck em, nor do I love em or cuff em
I just hit em and split em, pass em off to my cousin

Chorus

You know me, I’m so fly
Be lookin like money every time I ride by
Got them Benjis in my pocket and money on my mind
If it ain’t about no paper, then it ain’t about I
Cause I get-get-get it, money I get
When I step up in the club, I be feelin like Mitch
When I be in the hood, I be ridin with your bitch
You know she prolly on my dick ’cause I’m prolly the shit

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