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1 scale - young dolph lyrics

[intro: young dolph]
(let the band play)
yeah

[verse 1: young dolph & g herbo]
all i need is one scale, a couple bales, came in this sh*t by myself
dolph, why you f*ck his girl? uh, sh*t, ’cause i’m a player
quarterback, no nfl (ayy), drippy in chanel (drippy)
playin’ hide and go seek in the mansion with my lil’ girl (aria)
elevator was too crowded, so i took the stairs (woo)
the whole industry was hatin’, so now i give ’em h*ll (ha)
business man, i invest a whole million in the mail (yeah)
yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah
i*i*i treat b*tches like some shoes, i cop ’em by the pairs (it’s dolph)
she like when i grab her neck and pull her by her hair (it’s dolph)
in my city, i’m more important than the f*ckin’ mayor (it’s dolph)
ten years straight, i set the prices on the kush, i swear (it’s dolph)
i got your b*tch lookin’ for flippa (where he at?)
i let her ride like a bicycle (ah)
i pulled out and bust on her dimples (ah)
quarter milli’ for this richard (mille)
i had to run up them digits (run it up)
n*ggas know that i’m the sickest (for real)
b*tches know that i’m the littest
whip my d*ck out and p*ss on your feelings (for real)
i heard that lil’ n*gga from memphis (okay)
i heard he used to trap in fendi (okay)
i heard he went to jail in a bentley (okay)
straps with me in new york city (uh)
lil’ black n*gga with all this f*ckin’ paper on me, man
what the f*ck they mean, man?
i can’t go out like that (uh), huh, hold up

[verse 2: g herbo]
bangin’ l’s, sw*ngin’ scales (what?)
shakin’, got residue in my nails (what?)
started gettin’ real money, we bustin’ bales
everybody on the floor know the smell, uh
dropped out of high school
had to start bringin’ my glock, couldn’t show and tell, uh (p*ssy)
big bro got life in the feds
can’t talk on the phone, but he know his will
walked out the trap with a big ol’ bag
’til i pop in the house, i was on the sale (swerve)
we was sinnin’ on sunday, that b*tch in my hand
but i’m sinnin’ in my head, know i’m gon’ prevail, uh
if i call her house phone, tell her bring that b*tch out c*cked, then my mama will (come on)
i was eighteen, my og seen me hop out the benz or a bonneville (bah)
i bought a mansion, pop in that b*tch fresh off a shootout, i’m hot as h*ll
shh, you gon’ do some time, n*ggas probably tell
f*ck it, this lifestyle, know i probably will
i’m in new york with my n*gga dolph, he rockin’ wop, but his neck on gabbana still (uh)
i’m rockin’ christian dior with a bag full of blues, all black but it’s prada still (swerve)
i’m in the ‘raq, benihana, don’t eat at hamada
see opp, he get probably k!lled (swerve)
told lil’ bro come out with me in bally
get out the ‘raq, he might come near, catch a body still (shh)
i’ll pull up on your home in a lam’ smokin’ out a sack
arch her back, disappear, artifact (skrrt)
i ain’t comin’ with sh*t but my pipe and a box of mags
twenty on me, that’s my starter pack
gettin’ too much money, we ain’t tryna make arch*rivals
you know we spark ride (bah)
i was outside and that’s the reason we won battles
n*gga, we weren’t part*time
got a youngin, he only send straight at you (seen ’em)
you ain’t never heard that snake rap? (go get ’em)
on a n*gga head, then we just can’t catch you
spin twice, mad as f*ck, we went straight past you
ever tried to k!ll a n*gga just ’cause you had to?
leanin’ up in the clubhouse like rascal (huh?)
everybody rich as f*ck, ain’t nothin’ past due
i could go grab a m from my mama pad too
let me see what you gon’ do, we could team*tag two
oh, you ain’t with the sh*t, have somebody blast you
kel*tec on my lap, if god bless you, i tag you
have you fillin’ the bag with your fast food (p*ssy)

- young dolph lyrics

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