Cardo, Payroll Giovanni & Larry June – AMG Snatchin' lyrics

[Intro: hbk]
(Cardo Got Wings)
Yo, what up, baby? Come holla at me right quick
Don’t look that way, look this way
Matter o’ fact, don’t look this way
‘Cause how this ice hittin’
You might just blind yo motherfuckin’ self (facts)
You feel me?
So, just listen up, let me talk some shit (let me talk my shit)
Hear me out one time (clean yo ears, bitch)

[Verse 1: hbk]
Champagne toastin’ to life, in the fast lane floatin’
They know when Kid enter the room, the crack game over
These old niggas in they feelings, ‘cause they trap game slowed up
How I’m tellin’ you to grow up, when I ain’t older?
This booth that I bought it came wit diamonds – complimentary
Seen some shit in my life, I need a documentary
Fendi me, I’m in da Fendi sto’, but I got Gucci on
These rap niggas hate when I show up, I take they groupies home
Jewelry on, but if I pull a bitch wit’out it
It should tell you ‘bout myself and how yo bitch is ‘bout it
Spent thousands with her [?], spent thousands with shot
Cristal out the box, bitches piled in the yacht
Safe, clear shores, I take her, now this bitch ain’t yours
Carry legal on my seat, that’s the ak4
Then the number after six, I’ma stunna after chips
She a gunna, had to hit, yo nigga ain’t got none o’ this

[Interlude: Larry June]
Aye, what’s hannin’, bitch?
Yeah, I know, I know... I see you, I see you
Oh, okay, he got da ‘53
Oh, yeah, it’s the ‘63
Asking some crazy shit, like
“What’s the difference between a ’53 and ’63?”
You know what I’m sayin’
Fifty-thousand, cock sucka
Off top, game related shit

[Verse 2: Larry June]
Mob coolin’, fuckin’ wit my bros
Goin’ through my phone, might crack another go
I’m lazy, game on point
You ain’t ‘bout yo money, nigga, you just wanna boink
I’m chilling, good day
Not just 1, bitch, here for $6K
Good job, you’re doin’ great
My name’s Larry, baby (good job, Larry), by da way
So, I’m slidin’ down da block, 3rd street to be exact
Grab a juice and some zigzags, time to get it crackin’
Da block hot, so I’m out da way wit da bitch
Davis city, just fifteen from the shits
I got court in da mornin’, so I’m chillin’ for real
Ten bands for da lawyer, I ain’t trippin’ for real
I like money, cars, expensive clothes
And I’m havin’ all three, so she choosin’ fasho
What’s hannin’?

[Interlude: Payroll]
Yuh, game related shit
Big difference
Shit ain’t hard to tell, you got eyeballs
Real hustla shit
4-1

[Verse 3: Payroll]
You on da waitin’ list for Jordans
I’m on waitin’ lists for foreigns
I ain’t really gotta speak, my aura tell you I’m important
Always been a team player, just don’t play with Pay’s portion
Got a mansion in the A, I swear the view is so gorgeous
But I’m at my other mansion, on my patio laughin’ wit my kids
Jump into my Benz, head to another crib
This where da work hid
Barely furnished, but the flat screen so big
And Don P is always in da fridge
Neiman shopping bags all in da hall
Lookin’ through ‘em, damn, I forgot I bought dese dawg
Grab twenty pounds, front ‘em to my mans, he good
These ain’t goin’ to dispensaries, these goin’ to da hood
Want my people livin’ good, and we all know is sell
Cocaine, pills, booze [?], and bowls of blo’
Shit, as a youngin’ I was sellin’ all fo’, I ain’t give a fuck
Was prepared to hold my head high if I got handcuffed

[Outro: Payroll]
No, we ain’t doin’ dat shit no mo’
Err’thang legitimate
Cardo, what up though? Grammy-winnin’
Larry June... Hb... Game related shit
Mob shit, yeah