Six Speed - Juicy J, Pouya

MTM, hit 'em with the heat

Ayy, I’m back in the cycle, feel like a psycho, feel like I’m Michael, yuh

Don’t look at my bread, don’t look at my whip, take a look at my FICO

, yuh

I’m pacin' and thinkin' of robbin' a bank with the homies I hang with

These hoes wanna make it, the bank or the banquet

Come hang with the gang, get shady

Drunk drive in a Mercedes, four-five on the hip daily

Screamin' out, «Fuck you pay me»

I ain’t patient, I got OCD

Feel like I’m not controllin' me

Still them hoes gon' fall for me

Pussy that they offer me is often not too luxury

But let me see what that lick read

Triple digits in the six-speed

Think I fell in love when that bitch hit me

I might fuck around and bust her down

And buy a Bentley for that bitch

While you was fucking with them lames, I made my baby mama rich

Baby, play with my dick, not my emotions

Shed so many tears that I could fill an ocean

We was coastin', now we roller coastin'

Look inside my eyes and feel the pain that you put on me

I just pray to Peep that you don’t leave me lonely

Thousand bitches but they can’t do nothin' for me

You my one and only

I know you need some company so come on over

Do you love me, do you love exposure?

Ayy, man, Pouya, man, I got you, man

Tell these hoes, «Shut the fuck up,» yeah

Check this pimpin', gotta watch these women, they catfish (They catfish)

And it look like Meech in the club every time I come through tippin' (Big Meech)

Drop that bag, maybe two or three, that’s if she different (Drop a bag)

Wanna come back, I got that sack, it look like Christmas (Backend)

She down to fuck, you tryna cuff, my nig', good luck, ayy (You trippin')

This ain’t no robbery but my bitch is stuck up, ayy (My bitch bad)

She bad as fuck, well like what’s in my cup

She the Quicker Picker Upper, I’m loving the way she suck, ayy (Pick me up)

She call me Jay (Yeah, ho), I call her bae (Yeah, ho)

We ain’t the Carters but that rock all in your face (It's the rock)

These bitches thirsty but these hoes ain’t got no taste (Ain't got no taste)

It’s cuffin' season, man, these hoes finna get replaced any day, ayy