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lirik lagu get a ticket – chase fetti

[intro: chase fetti]
uh (brr)
y’all know me (bah*bah*bah*bah*bah*bah)
it’s not good*lookin’ for this beat, n*gga
ayy, buzz, you know you—
you know what’s up with me, man (uh)
it’s regular talk, n*gga (look)

[verse 1: chase fetti]
i’m on top of my game, n*gga, i’m feelin’ like ‘bron when he touched the league (uh*huh)
whether i got this rollie on or it’s off, i’m tuckin’ sleeves (y’all know me)
i pull this big mac out, if a n*gga owe double*cheese (brr)
get to snappin’, flea*fl!ckin’, cop on ease, n*gga, yeah (cash)
i’m the pill guy, i know to let the steal fly (uh*huh)
the prices of my b*tches heels is still high (they still high)
i know a couple n*ggas that told, but for what that’s sittin’, still high
you gotta do the science on sh*t a n*gga built now
look, you better have some knowledgе yourself (where thе science, love?)
you did that blessin’, just acknowledge the wealth, my n*gga, real sh*t (real sh*t)
look, a n*gga talkin’ live, i hit that k!ll*switch (bah*bah*bah)
pop the cap off the blender, them fumes make me feel sick (uh*huh)
i need it real lit, n*gga, i am legend, call me will smith
a thousand fifty had me on my drip sh*t (that’s a fact)
then i touched a brick and found a couple n*ggas i can build with
the hand that i was dealt made me deal sh*t (uh*huh)
look, i’m squeezin’ on that tricker, ’til the steel cl!ck (brr)
lost so many n*ggas, i don’t feel sh*t (real sh*t)
[chorus: chase fetti]
first you put it in that blender, next you gotta sift it (gotta sift it)
stamp a couple bags up, then you gotta pinch it (gotta pinch it)
please rush them now, sh*t is gettin’ wicked (gettin’ wicked)
i was out road*runnin’, tryna get a ticket, n*gga (ticket, n*gga)

[verse 2: benny the butcher]
i’ma be fresh as h*ll when the feds watch (when the feds watch)
butch’ slam the work with the hulk hogan leg drop (boom)
a big dry*in on the counter while y’all air a box
wanna sound like hitler’s ap and look like a crayon box (my n*gga)
come with it or get mob*claimed, this trigger on this glock squeeze
this chicken on me, not cleaned, one*fifty in a box spring
i carry lows, my connect never carried phones
his name, we don’t bring it up, like that picture with jerry jones
i’m on the strip, in a fit that you only should wear in vogue
i can’t take it, i start shakin’ every time i stand near a stove, yeah
state farm arena, while atlanta play the rockets
me and my b*tch on a jumbotron, like angela and gotti (hahaha)
out the country vacation, it’s gon’ be hard for you to find me
i might send that b*tch back to you, with tan lines on her body (my n*gga)
who showed the trappers how to get loose? (butch’) ask dukes
when i was six, i spelled out bricks in my alphabet suit (d*mn)
so be prepared when you get in the streets
granny taught me to always live what you speak
and wash your dishes with bleach, let’s go
it’s benny and chase, n*gga, the butcher comin’, ah
[chorus: chase fetti]
first you put it in that blender, next you gotta sift it (gotta sift it)
stamp a couple bags up, then you gotta pinch it (gotta pinch it)
please rush them now, sh*t is gettin’ wicked (gettin’ wicked)
i was out road*runnin’, tryna get a ticket, n*gga (ticket, n*gga)

- chase fetti

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