I got a whole lot of money
Pop that pussy for me
My homie got that yopper
He'll bang it at a copper
Gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party
Stove on my waist, cook your ass up gourmet
All-black .44, do you want foreplay?
I'm going at your face like Oil of Olay
No champagne but you know my flag rose
Swagger on steroids, Canseco, Jose
No Limit Records, we so 'bout it 'bout it
I'm higher than a bitch
Feel like a climbed a fucking mountain
Illest nigga, you know, my accountants still counting
Shots hit him a minute ago
But his body's still bouncing
Beam on the hammer, beam on your forehead
Gotta kill the witnesses 'cause Birdman car red
Hollygrove Monster, Eagle Street preacher
Come to your funeral, kill everybody but the preacher
I live in Miami, nigga, I'll South Beach ya
Robin Leach, uh, that's how we ballin
You know that I'm loaded but please don't take a sweeter
Beat one of you bitch, niggas up like John Cena
Them hoes on your money
Tell them hoes we coming
Before we get it popping
We ain't saving hoes, we swapping
Gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party
Big head Desert Eagle, call it "shotty"
How'd you get that money? Stunna taught me that
The zan took me under, patron brought me back
I'm leaning on you muthafuckers like I caught a flat
And that Glock snap back like a old Starter hat
What the lick read? I'm in the big league
I'm a breath of fresh air, let the bitch breathe
I'm trying to chillax but I had to do it, Dev
I'm at the funeral like "I had to do it, rev"
Mack you my big brother, I split a wig for you
Put that on [unverified] repeat until they bury me
Moment of clarity, yeah
That's my diamond game, I keep a fine bitch
Cause I like the finer things, fuck with me slime
No brain on the whip, I've got nothing in mind
Carter 4, they ain't fucking with mine
I drop that Sorry 4 The Wait to make up for the time
Yeah, I do my thang, bitch wassup?
Young Based God, came in with the ballers
Iced out chain, bitch, I'm rich off that same shit
See 5 hoes on my dick, bitch, it's Christmas
Straight Westside, Bay Area, bitch, I'll graze 'em
Gritty boy shit, Based God from the angles
On like a cradle and you niggas can't stop me
Shouts out to Mack Maine getting rich and cocky
Bitches still Westside shouts out to Weezy
Young Based God with that .55 heater
187 bitch, I put it to 11, bitch, with that tiny shirt mane
And the tiny pants mane
I'm on Based World and I fuck with cash money, my niggas
Don't understand man, the game like a chain
Woo woo, swag, bitch, brang-dang-dang, man
Off the top, I'm a Wolfpack hitter, my life just a painting
And I paint you a picture, Mane
Thing about it, a young paid ass nigga
This that stunt music, bitch, I just do's it
It's Lil' B and I'll muthafucking prove it, we running
Grove St. Party Lyrics performed by Lil Wayne & Charlie Puth are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Grove St. Party Lyrics performed by Lil Wayne & Charlie Puth is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD