Strick - Hibachi Lyrics - Your Own Buddy

Read Time:2 Minute, 42 Second

Wheezy outta here
Yeah

Hollywood, we caught vibes at Katana
Hotter dinner shit, steak and hibachi
Count the cash, lace the codeine with molly
Im like Hugh Heff, my butches get money
I wear Dior trainers, not Huaraches
Bentley Mulsanne, misogyny
Bitch like Madonna beside me
Ice out the Carti and AP yeah, yeah, yeah
Got a Cuban link
Dominican mamis still callin me papi
Passport my car out the country yeah
We came from nothing to luxury
Yeah, they hated, but I know that really, they love me
All along, yeah, they was fronting
They coupe got the truck in the front end

Count up a check when Im horny horny
I spent a dub up in Barneys Barneys
We jeep them straps like the army Army
All these niggas on go, you cant harm me Harm me
Fuck TSA, we flew here on a jet
Speak when you say my name, just have respect
I cannot move if you aint got a check
I like when she give me that neck suck it
My bitch is bad and wet
Diamonds, they hittin, they look like baguettes splash
I cannot play with no lame in the street
This shit aint checkers, this chess This chess
Im kickin shit like a punter
I promise, and I do this shit for my mama shit
Whip up a whole brick in front of your eyes
Cook it up like Benihanas

Yeah, we jumped off the porch, all my niggas need large chairs
Got the floor full of green like a lawn, yeah
Tell her shake it, you know we got more, yeah
Yeah, all this ice, my arm damn near went numb, yeah
YSL clarity on my charm, yeah
Any, in Cali we rollin exclusives
Blue Magic, the coupe Frank Lucas
Give her dope, then she smoke it like cookie
Wearin Dior, my aunt used to boost it
Luxury tap on this drip, they aint seen yet
Cozy paintin on my jean jacket
Baguettes dangle on my necklace
They seen me somewhere with an actress