More songs by xaviersobased
More songs by OsamaSon
Description
Vocals: xaviersobased
Featured Vocals: OsamaSon
Producer: Akachi
Producer: Kylen
Producer: Jaylen bee
Mixer: Moustafax2
Masterer: Moustafax2
Unknown: Moustafa Moustafa
Writer: Xavier Lopez
Writer: Hunter Brown
Writer: Kylen Malik Bradshaw
Writer: Jaylen Bee
Writer: Amari Middleton
Lyrics and translation
Original
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay.
Give it up, give it up, ayy. Give it up, give it up, ayy.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Dior monogram, ayy. Gucci monogram, ayy. Louis monogram, ayy.
Burberry monogram, ayy. They ain't on my frequency, Young Xav the sonogram.
In the trap with holograms, ayy, take my photograph.
Bitches wastin' thirty-four, bitch, get with the program. If I shoot it, Ja Morant.
They still swaggin', they torrent. Me and O in the foreign, uh, they unimportant. I think you an informant.
Come again, I forget. Slur my words, incoherent.
Mad bucks, so my money flavors unsorted. You don't know shit, your views distorted.
Young Xav, I can't get disregarded.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, boot it up, boot it up, yeah.
Throw it up, throw it up, yeah. I need your stuff, yeah. I need the fuck, yeah. I, I let the loud ass trap.
I got racks on the floor. I got too much bucks, yeah. Yeah, yeah, I just rocked
Chanel, keep up. Keep your hoe out, yeah, no FIFA. Double cup of smoke and reefer.
Fuck up your status, I don't wanna meet ya. Pull up to Westlake, we got heaters.
Match my chain, match my sneaker. Give a band to my eater.
Drift like a Benz, we gon' beat ya. Pull up again, I got FICO. Hop out the van, I'm the teacher.
Gave you a pack just to put your feet up, yeah. Put on my mind, go swim, yeah. Smoke cash,
I say you feel me, yeah. Bag on my bitch, she trim, yeah.
Fat ass witch, she trim, yeah. Rambo, I was like damn, I wanna hear the fan, yeah, yeah.
I got too many bands, yeah. What me is a pen, yeah, yeah. The Pop Tart, it won't jam.
Shoot that bitch, no blam, yeah. Hundred thousand a ten, yeah. I spend cars on bands, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Give it up, give it up.
I pick the money up and throw it up. Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
English translation
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay.
Give it up, give it up, ayy. Give it up, give it up, ayy.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Dior monogram, ayy. Gucci monogram, ayy. Louis monogram, ayy.
Burberry monogram, ayy. They ain't on my frequency, Young Xav the sonogram.
In the trap with holograms, ayy, take my photograph.
Bitches wastin' thirty-four, bitch, get with the program. If I shoot it, Ja Morant.
They still swaggin', they torrent. Me and O in the foreign, uh, they unimportant. I think you an informant.
Come again, I forget. Slur my words, incoherent.
Mad bucks, so my money flavors unsorted. You don't know shit, your views distorted.
Young Xav, I can't get disregarded.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, boot it up, boot it up, yeah.
Throw it up, throw it up, yeah. I need your stuff, yeah. I need the fuck, yeah. I, I let the loud ass trap.
I got racks on the floor. I got too much bucks, yeah. Yeah, yeah, I just rocked
Chanel, keep up. Keep your hoe out, yeah, no FIFA. Double cup of smoke and reefer.
Fuck up your status, I don't wanna meet ya. Pull up to Westlake, we got heaters.
Match my chain, match my sneaker. Give a band to my eater.
Drift like a Benz, we gon' beat ya. Pull up again, I got FICO. Hop out the van, I'm the teacher.
Gave you a pack just to put your feet up, yeah. Put on my mind, go swim, yeah. Smoke cash,
I say you feel me, yeah. Bag on my bitch, she trim, yeah.
Fat ass witch, she trim, yeah. Rambo, I was like damn, I wanna hear the fan, yeah, yeah.
I got too many bands, yeah. What me is a pen, yeah, yeah. The Pop Tart, it won't jam.
Shoot that bitch, no blam, yeah. Hundred thousand a ten, yeah. I spend cars on bands, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Give it up, give it up. I pick the money up and throw it up.
Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Give it up, give it up.
I pick the money up and throw it up. Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah