"No License" lyrics

Gucci flops, Gucci belt, shiny with the buckle
Louis belt, Louis shirt, pack it with the duffle
Shawty stick to me like we are bread and butter
They still calling back, but I got a new number
She want my money so I lock the fucking safe
They wanna ride me but they can't ride my wave
Ops tryna chop me but they can't fill my grave
I'm in my bag, but they beggin for a fade

Yeah the plug calling back with the dirty sprite (hold up)
Yeah the jeweler calling back with my rollie iced
Girls gon' start to front cause my buckle staying tight
Showing fake love had em swervin by my side
Looking up above God's telling me to write
Fit in like a glove, baby we were meant to fly
Call me what the fuck, baby you my only prize
Ain't a chef but I can fill your appetite
Met a lot of girls, and none got real feelings
You the same thing, why you think I'm fleeting
Think you gonna play, pack it up, you dreaming
Send you on your way, I'm down with freewheeling
Talking bout a bag, hoes mad I'm reeling
I ain't throwin cash, that's facts you fiending
Hunnid on the dash, I'm chasing the feeling
Put you on my gas, you'd think I'm speeding

Gucci flops, Gucci belt, shiny with the buckle
Louis belt, Louis shirt, pack it with the duffle
Shawty stick to me like we are bread and butter
They still calling back, but I got a new number
She want my money so I lock the fucking safe
They wanna ride me but they can't ride my wave
Ops tryna chop me but they can't fill my grave
I'm in my bag, but they beggin for a fade