Fiesta - Peezy

Fiesta, fiesta

My check up, my check up

Six chains on, my neck hurt

Bitch beggin' me to come outside, gotta wait 'til I’m dressed first

You know when it come to pape', I’m an expert

Millionaire nigga out the dirt, know my ex hurt

Can’t cheat the grind, overtime, gotta put in that legwork

Elevators in the crib, had to run up the stairs first

Lamborghini skrrt when I pull off the lot

Got a hun' in jewelry on and I just put on a watch

Cars trailin' me in traffic when I pull off the block

I’m jefe around this bitch, you better not play with my top

I’m gettin' money, I might put on my opps, give 'em a chance

Let 'em make a diss, then we spin, go kill 'em again

Met amigo plug, we friends, he send 'em advance

No pressure, when the bag get done, he get all his cash

Why the fuck wouldn’t I stay independent? I get all the cash

Make them crackers give me the bag, didn’t split it in half

I’m a crack baby, mind on a billion, want shit I ain’t have

She act right, I buy her Chanels, ain’t shit but a bag

Had every Rollie you can think of

Make a toast, drink up, tell my haters keep up

Police askin' me stuff, told 'em I ain’t see much

Too busy lookin' down at my Rollie with the V cuts

All these niggas pussy, get a wax, you need to clean up

Face got too known up on that road, I had to ease up

I can sleep the whole fuckin' day away and still be up

All you niggas in a low tax bracket stop bringin' P up

Get your crew slain speakin' on the captain

On vacation in the Hamptons, still bet I make it happen

Be with well-known assassins, press a button, they get active

Put your feet up in the air just like NASA, make you blast off

Last time them bitches called me broke, I took the cast off

Now they can’t stop callin', I done— huh

Now they can’t stop callin', I done ran that fuckin' bag up

Man, I had to stop listenin' to these niggas 'cause they ass suck

All these digi scales and these chickens that got bagged up

See these niggas out, these niggas finished, ain’t got five bucks

Man, I might just quit rappin' like in five months

It’s just too much fake shit, it fuck the vibe up

I hit Black to get a thousand-dollar lineup

Hit the coldest hoes in the hair salons, don’t mind us

Design District in Miami, I just fucked a dime up

And made it back before I got back in the car

I’m a fuckin' drug dealer, ain’t no motherfuckin' star

It’s kinda hard to blend in when you in these foreign cars

Ayy, we done came a long way, I be on dates with pornstars

Came in the game goin' hard and we still goin' hard, nigga, fiesta

Fiesta, fiesta

Fiesta, fiesta

Bitch, my check up, my check up

Yeah, my neck hurt, my neck hurts

My neck hurt, my neck hurt

Yeah

(What up, Loudboy?)