Aitch Maybach Wallet Lyrics
Give a fuck who’s best in the scene
I’m in my own lane cutting cheques with the team
Man thought he could try testing the Gs
Now the carpet’s red like step and repeat
Bake a cake and get to the cream
Got bags full of sand, no Sex on the Beach
She got cake, I’ma get me a piece
I ain’t pulling her face when I’m stretching the cheeks
Ain’t gotta spend eight racks on it
Nando’s black card in a Maybach wallet
Re-re on my ASAP Rocky
Won’t invest if it don’t make back profit
I can’t put no babies
In someone who don’t even make no wages
I know times hard, society’s failing
But girl just get off your arse and do something
Pulled up to the new function
At the front door man had the queue jumping
Got gyal in my ear while the tune’s bumping
Let’s cut to the chase though, who’s fucking?
All facts, I don’t do stunting
Pick any emcee, who are you trusting?
Roll through, man’s Canada Goose hunting
Yeah
Picked her up, got shorty confused
She can’t open the car cah the door goes upwards
I don’t do it all for the views
Man know who we are but I’m bored so fuck yous
Young OG in this ting
Look, I know the game’s ’bout more than numbers
But I still sold most in my city
Don’t know, you’re more than slumbered
Slept on man cah the battery’s dead
Don’t trap but they’re catching Z’s
Rude boy, better make sure your gang’s in check
‘Cause I’ll spin man’s set like I’m scratching decks
All them lies in the booth, start acting, you’ve got the BAFTAs next
Pussy’ole stop hiding the truth and capping, there ain’t no rappers left
They don’t want man back on mic
No second thoughts, I just tap it twice
So don’t get fooled by flashing lights
They can’t rap like Aitch, let’s have it right
Man’ll get headbutts and hooks
It’s fucked if I come with t’ugs in trucks
Good luck tryna cut when you run from us
If it’s up, it’s stuck, should’ve hushed it, shh
True say if I push this clutch
Then drop that gear, you’ll be munching dust
See a man go down like he fucks with Dutch
In simpler words I’ma punch him up
Test me, are you fucking nuts?
Are you smoking things or bumping stuff?
Tryna side eye man like something’s up
‘Til I slap man down ’cause he pushed his luck
A-I-T-C-H, Big Shelly
Shut down raves and I shut down telly
Shut down beef or I shut down deli
I shut down Keisha, I shut down –
A-I-T-C-H, Big Shelly
Shut down raves and I shut down telly
Shut down beef or I shut down deli
I shut down Keisha, I shut down Becky
Let me set the pace
Sold out tours, extra dates
Two encores in every place
So you know she a G if she’s next to Aitch
It’s all good ’til it escalates
Then police come round to investigate
Tryna ask us how many drinks we’ve had
Just look at us pussy and estimate
Told man it gets cold up north
But man still carry the pole in shorts
Ain’t just Nando’s that are holding corn
End up motionless for that motion talk
But I’m not in no one’s war
I just do my ting, get my dough then walk
Grab a gyal and go New York
Now I’m laying the bed, not cold in chalk