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Luh Tyler - Florida Boy Remix Lyrics

[Intro: Wiz Khalifa]
Uh (Dog), uh (Thanks Yakree)
222 (Dog, yeah), 222 (Dog), I'ma step a few (Dog)
222 (Dog, uh), 222 (Dog, it's Wizzle, hahaha)
I'ma step a few (Yeah), I'ma step a few (Dog)

[Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa]
I ain't gettin' on the plane 'less my gang in
Customs wanna check my bag 'cause my chain in it
Said they want that old Wiz, but I'm the same nigga
You could have a billion dollars and still be a lame nigga
I'm Picasso with the pot flow, I just paint pictures
Smoke weed every day, once out the month, I drink liquor
When I switch the lane it might look like my paint drippin'
Dank twistin', lookin' for her 'cause your bae missin'
Poppin' rubber bands and poppin' Chrome tags
Hoppin' off the jet, that's why I'm jet lagged
Show my passport, then I'm movin' past
BMF, I'm blowin' marijuana fast
Evеn if they tell me not to, I'ma smokе
Got my money up, I'm never goin' broke
Wake and bake, soon as I wake, I gotta smoke
Come to Kush, I'm the G.O.A.T., I could teach you how to roll

[Chorus: Luh Tyler]
Matte black truck, blowin' gas and we switchin' lanes (Switchin' lanes)
Gold teeth, Cuban links, and a lot of chains (Skii)
Shades on in the club, I can't see a thing (On God)
Bankroll in my pocket, I can make it rain (Make it rain)
Fuck her with my chains on while she watch 'em swang (Ugh)
Could've bust that bitch down, but I kept it plain (Ice)
I jumped out the bed and jumped on a plane
I done jumped in my bag, now they know my name (They know my name)
[Verse 2: Luh Tyler]
If you ain't about your bag, then stay in your lane (Stay in your lane)
I need a money counter, this shit on the floor (Floor)
Takin' pictures with my fans in the corner store (Yeah)
This the life all these niggas really dreamin' for (No cap)
This that real Florida music, get you in that mode (In that mode)
This that get-money music, don't listen if you're broke (If you're broke)
This that shit that make a nigga wanna beat the road (Beat the road)
This that shit that make a nigga feel like "fuck these hoes" (Fuck these hoes)
You ain't never talkin' money, keep your mouth closed (Mouth closed)
Chase some money, nigga, and stop chasin' clout 'fore you run into a drought, bro (Yeah)
Let these hoes trick him, now that nigga 'bout broke, huh, yeah (Dumb-ass nigga)

[Chorus: Luh Tyler]
Black truck, blowin' gas and we switchin' lanes (Switchin' lanes)
Gold teeth, Cuban links, and a lot of chains (A lot of chains)
Shades on in the club, I can't see a thing (Can't see a thing)
Bankroll in my pocket, I can make it rain (Can make it rain)
Fuck her with my chains on while she watch 'em swang (Ugh)
Could've bust that bitch down, but I kept it plain (On God)
I jumped out the bed and jumped on a plane (On a plane)
I done jumped in my bag, now they know my name (Skii)

[Outro: Luh Tyler]
This that real Florida music, get you in that mode (Yeah)
This that get-money music, don't listen if you're broke (If you're broke)
This that shit that make a nigga wanna beat the road (The road)
This that shit that make a nigga feel like fuck these hoes
Feel like fuck these hoes
This that shit that make a nigga wanna beat the road
Yeah, don't listen if you're broke