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vultures (remix) - ¥$, kanye west & ty dolla $ign lyrics

[intro: ty dolla $ign & kanye west, dj pharris]
all eyes is on me
won’t tell no lies, won’t hold my tongue
don’t cry for me
(this chicago, n*gga)

[verse 1: bump j & lil durk]
i don’t have no rapper friends, i hang with the vultures
big*ass toaster, hit you with it, flip it over
big ol’ n*gga, he’s a big ol’ goofy, rudy gobert
jump off in that lane, you gon’ get put on a poster
new ferrari f8, lamborghini roadster
i turn ten bricks into twelve, them birds had a growth spurt
we gon’ do some shoppin’ later, i’ma need some throat first
i just got some head in a ghost and i ghost her
yeah*yeah, outta here, them boys tryna go for
i see him out with her and pretend like i don’t know hеr
i can’t do no features with you, n*gga, it’s a “no, sir”
hottest n*gga on earth, i’m not rеally from earth
we don’t dial 9*1*1, i let off that chrome first
i put in my own work, better do your homework
i can hear that money callin’, i pick up the first ring (yeah)
what, you gon’ charge that old man for that p*ssy? girl, don’t hurt me (go)

[verse 2: lil durk & dj pharris]
iced out all my scammer hoes, boost all your insurance up
iced out all my ghetto hoes who turned into influencers
smurkio, f*ck that b*tch and leave, i don’t care who she f*ck
air sh*t out her closet, it’s hot as h*ll, she got on yeezy uggs
i got moes with me, bump out the feds, mean i got foes with me
you got goofies with you, before i do that, i keep some hoes with me
askin’ for my gun when i’m in cali’, n*gga, this your city
why you dm’in’ my b*tch actin’ like we f*ck? these hoes below*semi
street n*ggas want ramen, i don’t like calamari
took her out that cheap sh*t, took her to bvlgari
never tell her “sorry”, this car a ferrari
off set with this cuban link, you think she was cardi
(this chicago, n*gga, go)
[verse 3: kanye west]
three gang leaders with me, all times
i don’t know who i f*cked last night, i got alzheimer’s
i don’t know who them hoes is, man, they all lyin’
brody, tell me who them hoes is, man, they all fine
runnin’ hooligan, and we with the foolishness
how i’m anti*semitic? i just f*cked a jewish b*tch
i just f*cked scooter’s b*tch and we ran up like olympics
got pregnant in the threesome, so whose baby is it?
whose baby is it?
my n*ggas puttin’ belt to ass, pull up with the switches
this ain’t jimmy butler but the heat got extensions
this ain’t columbine, but we came in with the trenches

[verse 4: ty dolla $ign & kanye west]
she askin’ me to aim for her neck, ’cause her boyfriend bought that necklace
with the trenches, precious, with the trenches
f*ck it, i scratched another n*gga woman up off my checklist
with the trenches, i’ve been livin’ reckless
i wish takeoff wasn’t there that night in houston, texas (with the trenches)
wish i could bring g.ca$$o back, that was my best friend
boys, i need you to give me somethin’ big, i’m talkin’ ’bout dollar signs
skip to the vert, tell the ho “no, i don’t wanna f*ck”
she can suck*suck*suck it, ’til she suck it dry
california n*gga with some european freaks
bad*ass b*tch from the middle e*e*e*east wanna l!ck on me
stick on me, even though i got security
even though she got a man, she know he ain’t as pure as me, seriously
seems like it back tradin’ in my urus for the puro keys
couple grey hairs up in my beard, that’s showin’ my maturity, yeah
ayy, shoutout to my symphony, 9th ave, sp*ced out
we beat that sh*t so differently and brilliantly
dolla $ign, iggy, and we both yg
fades in the backyard, no talkin’, take flight instantly
it ain’t that deep, boot up my n*gga, james cool
my n*gga, that’s drugs, she snottin’ that p out that d
she want me to put some of this coke in her b*tt, ugh
she russian, i beat up the p*ssy for ukraine
bought her a bag and i filled it with loose change
just like my exes, she told me that “you changed”, yeah, yeah, yeah
lotta them rappers be f*ckin’ it up
still screamin’ “free tc, melly, and thug”
f*ck the police, if we be hearin’ the judge
way out in saudi, i found me a plug
don’t wanna go out, she’d rather do drugs
can’t be my main if we met in the club
[outro: 2 eleven]
give me somethin’, b*tch, i’m talkin’ ’bout dollar signs
look it here, ho, i don’t wanna f*ck
here’s a buck, but a buck, buck, buck
i’m shootin’, game to light that
give me somethin’, b*tch, i’m talkin’ ’bout dollar signs
look it here, ho, i don’t wanna f*ck
here’s a buck, but a buck, buck, buck
i’m shootin’, game to light that
game to light that—
game to light that—
game to light that—
game to light that—
game to light that—

- ¥ kanye west ty dolla ign lyrics

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