Hey My Guy - French Montana, Max B

I pull up on the corner stuntin like hey my guy

Its mac wit da cheese hey my guy

I got it for the low-low hey my guy

You talking to the po-po hey my guy

Breaking down the brick, choppin down the rock

Break it down, bag it up, shuttin down the block (2X)

See I’m bout to start trial for this murder shit

Satan want my soul but I’m riding nigga suck a dick

Layin just to pluck a chick playin I’m gone fuck his bitch

She don’t know my guy

See some niggas in the trenches that was skeemin on my ride

Bitches creamin on my ride, feenin for my high

Got the po-po got that one hand up they leaning on my guy

Fucking bitches make me sick

But I just give them the finger and keep rolling wit my guy

Keep strolling wit my guy, got mommy in the caddy and she blowing on my guy

This shit ain’t for no wager this bitch owe me a favor

This nig owe me some paper they raided all my pies

Damn that patty wagon they taking all my guys

They be raiding on my tribe knowing I’m a 3 time felon

Pop a shot up at ya melon bitch chop dat powder selling it

Copped it for the hell of it made her play my guy

Said she fuck wit Justin Timberlake bitch go get my dinner plate

I pull up on the corner stuntin like hey my guy

Bumpin Don Biggavel damn I miss my guy

Shorty curve said she ain’t tryna fuck tonight

So I made a U-turn on the first right

Man I gotta be cold fast money and hoes

United we stand divided we fall

Miley Cyrus

Nigga don’t blow my high

I think I see a nasty bitch tryna fuck up my life

I’m with the shooters and the slurpers wit my homie

Run train never save them pictures on my phonin

Macaroni wit da cheese hey my guy

I’m on two «deconfries» hey my guy