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90 days - chef geech lyrics

[verse 1]
let’s go!
everything gravy, old b*tch crazy
new b*tch hate me
i can’t even get mad, did that ho shady
this how god made me
flaws and all but got the b*lls to ball
i put the city on my back
giddy up, chef!
i was at the back of the line
i’m up next
i prefer her with soft lips and rough s*x
ten b*tches rolling loud in miami, this a f*ck fest
parking lot pimping like i’m chad, my n*gga
you gettin’ money but you broke ’cause you brag, my n*gga
geech, how you get that benz and that bag, my n*gga?
you ask a whole lotta questions, f*ck you vlad, my n*gga?
pistol by the bed, money bag, my n*gga
pass you n*ggas in the f*type jag
you ain’t even in my class
one thing about me, i’ma hustlе for it
h*ll yeah, life’s a b*tch but shе f*ckin’ gorgeous

[chorus]
dope dealing, selling, schemes
fast money, feta cheese
f*ck you doin’, f*ck you mean?
gettin’ to it by any means
small circle, mega team
if you ain’t got nothing to hold, you can hold these nuts
shorty wanna roll with me, tell her she can roll the weed up
90 bands, 90 days, all it took was 3 months
[post*chorus]
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months

[verse 2]
okay, everything wavy
baby face ray me, n*ggas can’t fade me
had to cut some n*ggas out the team ‘cause they lazy
d*mn, can you blame me?
westside rich n*gga, detroit baby
hat to the back in my new drop ‘lac
they like, “geech, we love you dawg
wish we was you, dawg!
i can’t make promises but i could plug you, dawg
i know where the fountain is, i could flood you dawg
[?]
pill dust and fraud
field chips and cough
all we fear is god, n*gga, we above the law
if sh*t ain’t up to par then we’ll cut you off
if don’t f*ck with dawg then we can’t talk at all
(b*tch, shut the f*ck up!)
it’s a paper work party
soon as fonz walk in, it’s a percocet party
soon as bonds walk in, ten b*tches get gnarly
if you ever caught me tardy, i was busy gettin’ money
no cap
[chorus]
dope dealing, selling, schemes
fast money, feta cheese
f*ck you doin’, f*ck you mean?
gettin’ to it by any means
small circle, mega team
if you ain’t got nothing to hold, you can hold these nuts
shorty wanna roll with me, tell her she can roll the weed up
90 bands, 90 days, all it took was 3 months

[post*chorus]
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months
i done seen a lotta pape’ through these buffs
my feet up, i been on the road for like 3 months

- chef geech lyrics

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