French Montana – Everything's A Go Lyrics
[Background]
This beat is so, so (?)
And everything's a go, go, go.. (yea-yeah)
[Hook: French Montana]
I know you heard 'bout it
All that money over there: don't worry 'bout it
Hundreds stacked, blow it out for fun
Southside, that's where I'm from
You can call it that, you can call it that
You can call it that, you can call it that (Aye!)
And everything's a go, go, go...
[Verse 1: French Montana]
I give a fuck what a hater gotta say, get it straight
You ain't talking 'bout no money anyway
I'mma see you when I see you any day
Smoking purp, Henny straight
Gettin' money, plenty cake, you niggas fake
I be fresher than cornbread: that long bread
I'm five star like Baby's bald head
Sippin' on that lean, wit' my homie though
I'm a pimp, but nothing like Goldie though
(Daaaaaaamn) is what the hoes say
You got the juice man? Call me O.J
That's macaroni, guacamole
And you's a cock block: a sock goalie
[Hook]
[Verse 2: French Montana]
I got a duffle bag, with a lot of O's
Got a main bitch, and a lot of hoes
Wristwear forty, valet parking
Lemonhead Rollie, Christopher Walken
I'm out'chea, Red Mountclair
I'm high-rising, I'm about there
Off the O.G, knock you off both feet
Fuck-niggas can't see me, we right by the nosebleeds
Rolls, dippin', Rose, sippin'
Them coke boys wrinkle up they clothes, pimpin'
It's the chef boy Breezy, f-r-eezy
Mister sixteen with the Coke Boy team, Montana
[Hook]
This beat is so, so (?)
And everything's a go, go, go.. (yea-yeah)
[Hook: French Montana]
I know you heard 'bout it
All that money over there: don't worry 'bout it
Hundreds stacked, blow it out for fun
Southside, that's where I'm from
You can call it that, you can call it that
You can call it that, you can call it that (Aye!)
And everything's a go, go, go...
[Verse 1: French Montana]
I give a fuck what a hater gotta say, get it straight
You ain't talking 'bout no money anyway
I'mma see you when I see you any day
Smoking purp, Henny straight
Gettin' money, plenty cake, you niggas fake
I be fresher than cornbread: that long bread
I'm five star like Baby's bald head
Sippin' on that lean, wit' my homie though
I'm a pimp, but nothing like Goldie though
(Daaaaaaamn) is what the hoes say
You got the juice man? Call me O.J
That's macaroni, guacamole
And you's a cock block: a sock goalie
[Hook]
[Verse 2: French Montana]
I got a duffle bag, with a lot of O's
Got a main bitch, and a lot of hoes
Wristwear forty, valet parking
Lemonhead Rollie, Christopher Walken
I'm out'chea, Red Mountclair
I'm high-rising, I'm about there
Off the O.G, knock you off both feet
Fuck-niggas can't see me, we right by the nosebleeds
Rolls, dippin', Rose, sippin'
Them coke boys wrinkle up they clothes, pimpin'
It's the chef boy Breezy, f-r-eezy
Mister sixteen with the Coke Boy team, Montana
[Hook]
