Текст песни Fiesta - Peezy

Fiesta

Fiesta, fiesta
My check up, my check up
Six chains on, my neck hurt
Bitch beggin' me to come outside, gotta wait 'til I’m dressed first
You know when it come to pape', I’m an expert
Millionaire nigga out the dirt, know my ex hurt
Can’t cheat the grind, overtime, gotta put in that legwork
Elevators in the crib, had to run up the stairs first
Lamborghini skrrt when I pull off the lot
Got a hun' in jewelry on and I just put on a watch
Cars trailin' me in traffic when I pull off the block
I’m jefe around this bitch, you better not play with my top
I’m gettin' money, I might put on my opps, give 'em a chance
Let 'em make a diss, then we spin, go kill 'em again
Met amigo plug, we friends, he send 'em advance
No pressure, when the bag get done, he get all his cash
Why the fuck wouldn’t I stay independent? I get all the cash
Make them crackers give me the bag, didn’t split it in half
I’m a crack baby, mind on a billion, want shit I ain’t have
She act right, I buy her Chanels, ain’t shit but a bag
Had every Rollie you can think of
Make a toast, drink up, tell my haters keep up
Police askin' me stuff, told 'em I ain’t see much
Too busy lookin' down at my Rollie with the V cuts
All these niggas pussy, get a wax, you need to clean up
Face got too known up on that road, I had to ease up
I can sleep the whole fuckin' day away and still be up
All you niggas in a low tax bracket stop bringin' P up
Get your crew slain speakin' on the captain
On vacation in the Hamptons, still bet I make it happen
Be with well-known assassins, press a button, they get active
Put your feet up in the air just like NASA, make you blast off
Last time them bitches called me broke, I took the cast off
Now they can’t stop callin', I done— huh
Now they can’t stop callin', I done ran that fuckin' bag up
Man, I had to stop listenin' to these niggas 'cause they ass suck
All these digi scales and these chickens that got bagged up
See these niggas out, these niggas finished, ain’t got five bucks
Man, I might just quit rappin' like in five months
It’s just too much fake shit, it fuck the vibe up
I hit Black to get a thousand-dollar lineup
Hit the coldest hoes in the hair salons, don’t mind us
Design District in Miami, I just fucked a dime up
And made it back before I got back in the car
I’m a fuckin' drug dealer, ain’t no motherfuckin' star
It’s kinda hard to blend in when you in these foreign cars
Ayy, we done came a long way, I be on dates with pornstars
Came in the game goin' hard and we still goin' hard, nigga, fiesta
Fiesta, fiesta
Fiesta, fiesta
Bitch, my check up, my check up
Yeah, my neck hurt, my neck hurts
My neck hurt, my neck hurt
Yeah
(What up, Loudboy?)