Vintage

[Intro]
(I really like to use cash)
(What the fuck is up?)
(What the fuck is up?)
(What the fuck is up?)

[Verse: Slime Dollaz]
Uh, I got vintage drip, I empty the clip
And I know they hiding, but this shit for real
I just popped a pill, and they didn't know if it was real
And this thirty-round magazine, It'll kill ya
I had flipped the car, I had upped the score
I was in Atlanta, Georgia with a nigga hoe
I'm smoking Zaza, I'm smoking dead man
And I ain't no mothafuckin' fan, I might fuck your friend
And my nigga vulture, better hide your hoe
I'm with Tony Shnow and we'll up the score
These niggas don't like me and I don't know why
Cause they know I be smoking all these damn dead guys
In my eyes, they bleeding, baby I'm real conceited
Off of park hill, this shit look like fucking [?]
We got bloods, we got g's, we got fucking fiends
And that nigga don't know snakehead, that boy a squeeze
Uh, I got vintage drip, I empty the clip
And I know they hiding, but this shit for real
I just popped a pill, and they didn't know if it was real
And this thirty-round magazine, It'll kill ya
I had flipped the car, I had upped the score
I was in Atlanta, Georgia with a nigga hoe
I'm smoking Zaza, I'm smoking dead man
And I ain't no mothafuckin' fan, I might fuck your friend

[Verse: Tony Shnow]
I got vintage drip, fuck a motion picture this pistol extended clip
I ain't politicking with nobody, cause I ain't running for congress
I'm only getting paid if you see me in the office
Otherwise, I be in the trap house posted
A real cool guy, I got guns but I don't post 'em
I try not to fuck my fans, I find out they groupies afterward
I been booked up all year if you broke I close the chapter
Ay, It's polo vintage, this FN director cut I got the clip extended
Welcome to the lake show, I go more forties in my trap than a Drake show
My lingo went on sale, I'm moving this not residential
I got no feelings, I love money, I'm sentimental
I just left Cali for the plug, I then hit vintage drip

[Outro: Slime Dollaz]
Uh, I got vintage drip, I empty the clip
And I know they hiding, but this shit for real
I just popped a pill, and they didn't know if it was real
And this thirty-round magazine, It'll kill ya
I had flipped the car, I had upped the score
I was in Atlanta, Georgia with a nigga hoe
I'm smoking Zaza, I'm smoking dead man
And I ain't no mothafuckin' fan, I might fuck your friend