"OMG" lyrics

(Hey, it's [?])
Uh, uh

They like, "Oh my God, look at his wrists
Brand new Cartier, that shit cost him 26"
Said she ain't my type, nah, but still hit
Shittin' on my haters like my stomach feel sick
They like, "Oh my God, when will he quit? (God)
He been chasing paper, one day he'll be real rich"
They like, "Oh my God, he still lit
He play for the Raiders, way he in the field, bitch"

Been gifted sense of talent, I'm drippin' call the doctor
Love sippin' on that Wocka' on a strip with all my shottas
Label builders talkin' proper, keep stick like Harry Potter
For real, we bury oppers', he get shells like Larry Lobster, uh
Liu Kang, kick it in that Mulsanne, we made him a new strain
Jordan in the Flu game, ball
They call me Bruce Wayne, pull up in that coupe thang
Make him wanna lose brain, she ate me like I was on the food chain
Finesse right now, I could never quit
He thought he was funny 'fore he rock him, Will Smith
And you thought he was hard? He a real bitch
We liking' a Lamb', because we really kill shit

They like, "Oh my God, look at his wrists
Brand new Cartier, that shit cost him 26"
Said she ain't my type, nah, but still hit
Shittin' on my haters like my stomach feel sick
They like, "Oh my God, when will he quit? (God)
He been chasing paper, one day he'll be real rich"
They like, "Oh my God, he still lit
He play for the Raiders when he in the field, bitch"

Like who is he? I don't know him
He tempt me, I'ma show him
Heard he keep glizzy on him, and put lean in every soda
No, he be heavy smokin' and he be dizzy, blowin'
We blicky belly, rollin', tryna leave his body soakin', uh
Cash flow, treat him like a asshole
I stay with a fat roll, keep on running packs, grow money on a–
Max, oh, he love lettin' gas blow, he hot like Tabasco
Hop right out the back and put 20 in the—

They like, "Oh my God, look at his wrists
Brand new Cartier, that shit cost him 26"
Said she ain't my type, nah, but still hit
Shittin' on my haters like my stomach feel sick

They like, "Oh my God, look at his wrists
Brand new Cartier, that shit cost him 26"
Said she ain't my type, nah, but still hit
Shittin' on my haters like my stomach feel sick
They like, "Oh my God, when will he quit? (God)
He been chasing paper, one day he'll be real rich"
They like, "Oh my God, he still lit
He play for the Raiders, way he in the field, bitch"