"Special" lyrics
(feat. OhGeesy)
(Can we have a check, please?)
Ayy
Woke up to some money and some neck in bed
Stuntin' all in traffic, nigga, Jackie Chan
My new bitch called, do I want her head?
How you fumble me? Ho, you special ed
Hit his top again, he might be actin' dead
Now that goofy walkin' out in heaven like he Jagged Edge
I got forty thousand in these baggy pants
Your bitch lookin' single, better grab her hand (Huh, huh, huh, yeah)
Corny-ass boy, I know your bitch tired of fakin'
All the hoes I used to wanna hit, now they basic
Lambo', new model, we let Tyra Banks in
I up and shake this shit up like a spray can
Detectives keep lookin' for my prints like I wear gray pants
We keep spinnin' on they ass, but I don't break dance
Yeah, I wish a nigga would like Taye Diggs
Old bitch wanna talk it out, what about?
Bitch keep beggin' me to leave it in, what? Your mouth?
Stop hittin' her from the front, like a nerd, slut her out, nigga
Five, six, seven, four, but I ain't tuckin' out, huh
Sloppy-ass neck, couldn't help her clutch her scalp
Pulled up on Ari with my hands out, like, "What's the count?"
All her red bottoms on like Krusty Clown
Pornstar, pull up wit' a hundred rounds, nigga
Woke up to some money and some neck in bed
Stuntin' all in traffic, nigga, Jackie Chan
My new bitch called, do I want her head?
How you fumble me? Ho, you special ed
Hit his top again, he might be actin' dead
Now that goofy walkin' out in heaven like he jackin' it
I got forty thousand in these baggy pants (Geesy)
Your bitch lookin' single, better grab her hand (Pull up, pull up—)
Pull up to the trap, finna bag some grams (Ayy)
Pull up to the club, finna throw some bands (Bands)
Bitch, you ain't a ho, tryna grab my hand (Watch out)
We'll air this bitch out, bet' grab your mans (Pew, pew)
Do my own stunts like I'm Jet Li (Ba-kow)
Put three bad bitches on one jet-ski (Zoom)
All the hoes wanna cuff, but can't arrest me
If selling drugs was a sport, I won a ESPY, ayy
Kidd, what's poppin'?
Forever tied in, we so locked in (That's my nigga)
We gon' go platinum in the streets, top ten (Ten, yeah)
Yellow gold or white gold, I got options (Ayy)
Diamonds in my teeth match the Cartiers
Fuck a nine-to-five, I got the smarter way
When I shop at Louis, they pour Chardonnay
When I spent at Louis, nigga, could've bought a car today (Skrrt)
Woke up to some money and some neck in bed
Stuntin' all in traffic, nigga, Jackie Chan
My new bitch called, do I want her head?
How you fumble me? Ho, you special ed
Hit his top again, he might be actin' dead
Now that goofy walkin' out in heaven like he jackin' it
I got forty thousand in these baggy pants
Your bitch lookin' single, better grab her hand
Ayy
Woke up to some money and some neck in bed
Stuntin' all in traffic, nigga, Jackie Chan
My new bitch called, do I want her head?
How you fumble me? Ho, you special ed
Hit his top again, he might be actin' dead
Now that goofy walkin' out in heaven like he Jagged Edge
I got forty thousand in these baggy pants
Your bitch lookin' single, better grab her hand (Huh, huh, huh, yeah)
Corny-ass boy, I know your bitch tired of fakin'
All the hoes I used to wanna hit, now they basic
Lambo', new model, we let Tyra Banks in
I up and shake this shit up like a spray can
Detectives keep lookin' for my prints like I wear gray pants
We keep spinnin' on they ass, but I don't break dance
Yeah, I wish a nigga would like Taye Diggs
Old bitch wanna talk it out, what about?
Bitch keep beggin' me to leave it in, what? Your mouth?
Stop hittin' her from the front, like a nerd, slut her out, nigga
Five, six, seven, four, but I ain't tuckin' out, huh
Sloppy-ass neck, couldn't help her clutch her scalp
Pulled up on Ari with my hands out, like, "What's the count?"
All her red bottoms on like Krusty Clown
Pornstar, pull up wit' a hundred rounds, nigga
Woke up to some money and some neck in bed
Stuntin' all in traffic, nigga, Jackie Chan
My new bitch called, do I want her head?
How you fumble me? Ho, you special ed
Hit his top again, he might be actin' dead
Now that goofy walkin' out in heaven like he jackin' it
I got forty thousand in these baggy pants (Geesy)
Your bitch lookin' single, better grab her hand (Pull up, pull up—)
Pull up to the trap, finna bag some grams (Ayy)
Pull up to the club, finna throw some bands (Bands)
Bitch, you ain't a ho, tryna grab my hand (Watch out)
We'll air this bitch out, bet' grab your mans (Pew, pew)
Do my own stunts like I'm Jet Li (Ba-kow)
Put three bad bitches on one jet-ski (Zoom)
All the hoes wanna cuff, but can't arrest me
If selling drugs was a sport, I won a ESPY, ayy
Kidd, what's poppin'?
Forever tied in, we so locked in (That's my nigga)
We gon' go platinum in the streets, top ten (Ten, yeah)
Yellow gold or white gold, I got options (Ayy)
Diamonds in my teeth match the Cartiers
Fuck a nine-to-five, I got the smarter way
When I shop at Louis, they pour Chardonnay
When I spent at Louis, nigga, could've bought a car today (Skrrt)
Woke up to some money and some neck in bed
Stuntin' all in traffic, nigga, Jackie Chan
My new bitch called, do I want her head?
How you fumble me? Ho, you special ed
Hit his top again, he might be actin' dead
Now that goofy walkin' out in heaven like he jackin' it
I got forty thousand in these baggy pants
Your bitch lookin' single, better grab her hand
Writer(s): Marc Smith, Alejandro Carranza, Zion Sheppard
