Still fly lyrics Bryan Williams / Byron O. Thomas

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Whassup Fresh? It’s our turn, baby
Gator boots (Gator boots)
With the pimped out Gucci suits (With them Gucci suits)
Ain’t got no job, but I stay sharp (I stay sharp)
Can’t pay my rent (I can’t pay my rent)
‘Cause all my money’s spent (Mmm hmm)
But that’s okay, ’cause I’m still fly (Damn ’cause I’m so fly)
Got a quarter tank of gas
In my new E class (In my E-Class Benz)
But that’s alright, cause I’m gon’ ride
Got everything (We got everything)
In my momma name (In my momma name)
But I’m hood rich (Uh huh) na-na-na-na…
Get your k-uh, k-uh-car, play gems gone shine
And make sure mom get a mink
Baby girl let’s ride (Let’s ride)
You a number one stunna, and we gon’ glide
And go straight to the mall and tear down the inside
Do that Prada, Gucci, full length leather (Leather)
Bourbon’s cool or Coogi sweater (Sweater)
Twenty-inches pop my feather
The Birdman dad I fly in any weather
Alligator seats with the head in the inside
Swine on the dash, G-wagon is so fly
Number one don’t tangle and twist it
When they come to these cars I am that nigga
The k-uh, k-uh-Coogi with the matchin’ interior
Three wheel ride with the tire in the middle
It’s Fresh and Stunna, and we like brothers
We shine like paint daddy, it’s our summer
Gator boots with the pimped out Gucci suits
Ain’t got no job, but I stay sharp
Can’t pay my rent, ’cause all my money’s spent
But that’s okay, ’cause I’m still fly
Got a quarter tank of gas in my new E class
But that’s alright, ’cause I’m gon’ ride
Got everything in my momma name
But I’m hood rich, na-na-na-na…
Have you ever seen a crocodile seats in the truck?
Turn around sit it down and let ’em bite your butt
See the steering wheel is Fendi, dashboard Armani
With your baby momma player is where you can find me
Pushin’ through the parking lot on twenty fours
Cadillac Escalade with the chromed out nose
With an navigation arrow headed straight to your spot
Where your wife really love me cause the sex is so hot
Put the Caddy up, start the three wheel Benz (Skrrt)
Hyper white lights, ultra-violet lens
Suma-tuma tires and they gotta be run flat
TV where the horn go, “Boy can you top that?”
I’ma show you some shit rookie press that button
The trunk went ah-ah and all of a sudden
Four fifteen’s didn’t see no wires
And then I heard (boom!) from the amplifiers
Gator boots with the pimped out Gucci suits
Ain’t got no job, but I stay sharp
Can’t pay my rent, ’cause all my money’s spent
But that’s okay, ’cause I’m still fly
Got a quarter tank of gas in my new E class
But that’s alright, ’cause I’m gon’ ride
Got everything in my momma name
But I’m hood rich, na-na-na-na…
Lemme slide in the Benz (Shit) with the fished out fins
Impala loud pipes, drinkin’ the Henn’
It’s the Birdie-Birdie Man I’ll do it again
In a Cadillac truck twenty-fours with tens
Looking at my Gucci it’s about that time
Six bad broads flying in at nine
New Suburban Truck with the porno showing
Up and down and up they go and
Bodies on the Roadster Lexus you know what?
That hard-top beamer (ay, ay) yo Ma’, that’s your truck
I’m comin’ up, the hood been lovely
New shoes on the whip and I wake up to bubbly (bubbly)
Four-thirty Lex with the convertible top
And the rims keeps spinning every time I stop
Got a superman Benz that I scored from Shaq
With a ol’ school Caddy with a “diamond in the back”
Gator boots with the pimped out Gucci suits
Ain’t got no job, but I stay sharp
Can’t pay my rent, ’cause all my money’s spent
But that’s okay, ’cause I’m Still Fly
Got a quarter tank of gas in my new E class
But that’s alright, ’cause I’m gon’ ride
Got everything in my momma name
But I’m hood rich, na-na-na-na
Numba one stunna, pimp, ain’t it fresh
Songwriters: Bryan Williams / Byron O. Thomas

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