Wiz Khalifa - Phone Numbers

Tekst piosenki

Listen to this track, bitch
Yeah, usually I be smoking weed on the intro
But, I'm drinking water
This Cabin Fever, sick
I'm not gonna tell you again, stay the hell away from my woman
Taylor Gang, niggas think you can do whatever you want
Uh

I cop me one, cop me one for my old girl
You think she my newest bitch, she my old girl
Khalifa, a younger nigga who handle his
Hoes get in my car ask what the channel is
Boss shit, look that up my nigga, I handle biz
On fire, like a candle is
Niggas be dressing off the mannequin
Mmm, and I get fresh like where them cameras is
Better yet sandwiches, bad bitch Spanish friends
Coulda been the President rather be the man instead, yeah

Now when I get paid my checks be lookin' like phone numbers
Now when I get paid my checks be lookin' like phone numbers
(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million)
I'm talking millions, nigga I'm talking millions
(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million)
I'm talking millions, nigga I'm talking millions
Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)
Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)
(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million)
I'm talking millions, nigga I'm talking millions
(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million)
I'm talking millions, nigga I'm talking millions

I'm in the hood of off something that's corner surfing
Float, no water, my trunk is waving, I'm polar surfing
Blowing faces, I'm shitting on the diamond infested
Time is money, peep the wrist bitch, my time's invested
I'm still the king and I'm thugged out
Any block, any club I flood it out
I ain't one for competition I'mma blow it out
I'm going hard I don't even plan on going out
I get money probably something you don't know about
I stunt hard, you would swear that I was showing out
Don't tell me get 'em, I got 'em and I'mma throw 'em out
And back door on these hoes that I was rolling out
While I'm in this machine, convert the top
Tell them that the sky is the limit
With a foreign freak, she got her face in my lap
So deep you would think that she was hiding in it

Shrimp, steak liquor and pasta
Real shit boy, these niggas imposters
They deserve an Oscar, Kevin Costner
Oh My Gosher
I got this and that and everything I want like I got a hostage
Counting 7 digits no wonder why the money calling
Got ya bitch panties Niagara falling
Dollars come like I fuck in the bank
I told them I could, they tell me I can't
They want me to trip when I dunk in the paint
I'm popping champagne and puffin' on dank
Shining hard, boy, these niggas gotta see me
My dick hard, your bitch is easy