CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Fax Machine
She belongs to the street
Yes she do, but where she at though?
To be honest, I ain't seen her in the last four
Homie said, "Ayy yo' Traq, where your last ho'?"
I don't know, but it wouldn't gonna last though
Making money b*t*h, I'm a bankroll
I don't know you, stay the hell out my payroll
Super hot, got that ice on my wrist, huh
Cracka boutta pull up with that assist, uh
f**k 'Rona, b*t*h, I'm a grownup
I'm a stoner, pull up to the corner
Bad b*t*h, I ain't f**k with a thot
I'm never pickin' up, I'd be duckin' a lot
Gotta stack-stack in the back-back
Whole 'lotta cheese, call it pepper jack on me
Gotta whole 'lotta bangers on deck
I was broke, then a label cut a check, b*t*h
But why the f**k you always cappin', G?
I know your ex-man wishin' he could rap like me
I got Henny with a ho' and I'm clappin' cheeks
And I can never tell a lie, I'm the fax machine
She said, we had a thing, but I don't know her
f**k a Bentley truck, I was whippin' my Corolla
If you talkin' sh*t, I'ma leave you in a coma
Bad b*t*h, big bang, got rich, no diploma
Double G in my suit and my tie
Eight-gram zoot, oh shoot and I'm high
Talk sh*t ain't it, please don't try
No drip, no b*t*h, can you please go cry?
I be turnin' sh*t up on the beat, mm, just a itty-bitty
Bag a Uber, tryna feel just a bit of titty
Whole crew goin' mad in the city with me
Put it in her butt, mm, will she even let me?
I think I made my dough Versace, Prada, Gucci robes
I feel like I might lose control
Now you just watch this sh*t explode, like woah
I think I made my dough Versace, Prada, Gucci robes
I feel like I might lose control
Now you just watch this sh*t explode, like woah
But why the f**k you always cappin', G?
I know your ex-man wishin' he could rap like me
I got Henny with a ho' and I'm clappin' cheeks
And I can never tell a lie, I'm the fax machine, like
Why the f**k you always cappin', G?
I know your ex-man wishin' he could rap like me
I got Henny with a ho' and I'm clappin' cheeks
And I can never tell a lie, I'm the fax machine, b*t*h
Yes she do, but where she at though?
To be honest, I ain't seen her in the last four
Homie said, "Ayy yo' Traq, where your last ho'?"
I don't know, but it wouldn't gonna last though
Making money b*t*h, I'm a bankroll
I don't know you, stay the hell out my payroll
Super hot, got that ice on my wrist, huh
Cracka boutta pull up with that assist, uh
f**k 'Rona, b*t*h, I'm a grownup
I'm a stoner, pull up to the corner
Bad b*t*h, I ain't f**k with a thot
I'm never pickin' up, I'd be duckin' a lot
Gotta stack-stack in the back-back
Whole 'lotta cheese, call it pepper jack on me
Gotta whole 'lotta bangers on deck
I was broke, then a label cut a check, b*t*h
But why the f**k you always cappin', G?
I know your ex-man wishin' he could rap like me
I got Henny with a ho' and I'm clappin' cheeks
And I can never tell a lie, I'm the fax machine
She said, we had a thing, but I don't know her
f**k a Bentley truck, I was whippin' my Corolla
If you talkin' sh*t, I'ma leave you in a coma
Bad b*t*h, big bang, got rich, no diploma
Double G in my suit and my tie
Eight-gram zoot, oh shoot and I'm high
Talk sh*t ain't it, please don't try
No drip, no b*t*h, can you please go cry?
I be turnin' sh*t up on the beat, mm, just a itty-bitty
Bag a Uber, tryna feel just a bit of titty
Whole crew goin' mad in the city with me
Put it in her butt, mm, will she even let me?
I think I made my dough Versace, Prada, Gucci robes
I feel like I might lose control
Now you just watch this sh*t explode, like woah
I think I made my dough Versace, Prada, Gucci robes
I feel like I might lose control
Now you just watch this sh*t explode, like woah
But why the f**k you always cappin', G?
I know your ex-man wishin' he could rap like me
I got Henny with a ho' and I'm clappin' cheeks
And I can never tell a lie, I'm the fax machine, like
Why the f**k you always cappin', G?
I know your ex-man wishin' he could rap like me
I got Henny with a ho' and I'm clappin' cheeks
And I can never tell a lie, I'm the fax machine, b*t*h
