Drewco - Pre-Flex Lyrics

Hold up I might have to flex, I only take checks
3 chains on my neck, my bitch she from czech
My whip too high-tech, can't get in a wreck
Get hurt need a vet, i'm late for my jet (Aye yuh)
I'm late for my jet (Aye yuh)
17 outta TC, the odds against me
Still runnin' the streets, still smokin' that weed
I keep half a ki', right under my seat
I see LED's, and i start to speed (Aye yuh)
And i start to speed (Aye yuh)

Comin' up quick i can already see it
Me and my team up on stage and we freezin'
Bitch in my coupe and she ain't got no clothing on
We hit the Gucci store wearin' that Louis Vuitton
Yes i'm up next i'm just here to pre-flex
Reach for the blunt when i'm dead it's reflex
Breaking down sacs till they ain't bout a gram or two
Pass on a junt then I ain't ever trustin' you

Can't fall asleep 'till cook up some heat
People keep playin my shit on repeat
Bitty keeps textin' said she want my meat but she
Know that she cant 'less its uber low-key
Step on that gas throw u back in your seat
Talkin' that shit boy let's see if u mean
Wasting Dasani on people's the dream if you
Slackin' i'm shmackin' that shit like a fein

Imma switch lanes while getting some brain imma
Get what you want if you ain't with no lame
King of the game should be hall of fame cuz my shit
It's addictive its worse than cocaine
I talk my shit on the mic yuh
Flexin' that red and green stripe uh
I got a bitty she lookin real nice
Two by the end of the night uh

Can't f*ck w people who always be flakin'
Ran into the money now they switch to fakin'
Star of the show like my name's Kevin Bacon
My only dilemma's which car i'll be takin'
Never back down from a fight son
Beef like a muhf*ckin bison
Keep talkin' shit boy i swear its a'ight
I'll rock yo' shit like i'm Tyson

Hold up I might have to flex, I only take checks
3 chains on my neck, my bitch she from czech
My whip too high-tech, can't get in a wreck
Get hurt need a vet, i'm late for my jet (Aye yuh)
I'm late for my jet (Aye yuh)
17 outta TC, the odds against me
Still runnin' the streets, still smokin' that weed
I keep half a ki', right under my seat
I see LED's, and i start to speed (Aye yuh)
And i start to speed (Aye yuh)

Comin' up quick i can already see it
Me and my team up on stage and we freezin'
Bitch in my coupe and she ain't got no clothing on
We hit the Gucci store wearin' that Louis Vuitton
Yes i'm up next i'm just here to pre-flex
Reach for the blunt when i'm dead it's reflex
Breaking down sacs till they ain't bout a gram or two
Pass on a junt then I ain't ever trustin' you

Can't fall asleep 'till cook up some heat
People keep playin my shit on repeat
Bitty keeps textin' said she want my meat but she
Know that she cant 'less its uber low-key
Step on that gas throw u back in your seat
Talkin' that shit boy let's see if u mean
Wasting Dasani on people's the dream if you
Slackin' i'm shmackin' that shit like a fein

Hold up I might have to flex, I only take checks
3 chains on my neck, my bitch she from czech
My whip too high-tech, can't get in a wreck
Get hurt need a vet, i'm late for my jet (Aye yuh)
I'm late for my jet (Aye yuh)
17 outta TC, the odds against me
Still runnin' the streets, still smokin' that weed
I keep half a ki', right under my seat
I see LED's, and i start to speed (Aye yuh)
And i start to speed (Aye yuh)