Fitted Cap

Fitted Cap Lyrics Wale feat. J. Cole,Meek Mill,Rick Ross

Beat billionaire

You know I stick to the script
Twenty-million dollar nigga, but I do it like this

(M-M-M-Maybach Music, Maybach Music)

[Hook: Rick Ross]
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Wuh!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Wuh!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap
The Rolls-Royce, it’s all white
Foamposites, the LeBrons, I’m fuckin’ wit’ the Spikes

My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Woo!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Woo!)
The Rolls-Royce, it’s all white (How can I not talk big? I got to)
Foamposites (Wale!), the LeBrons, I’m fuckin’ wit’ the Spikes

[Verse 1: Wale]
Yeah, uh
Ferrari mikes, bitch, I’m on my car show
My chick black and white, she ain’t no dime, that bitch a Concord 11
Know I’m reppin’ this, shoot and I don’t ever miss
The coupe I’m in is rented, I ain’t wit’ all that commitment shit
P-R-Ps is proper, couple Gs when I’m shoppin’
My girls and my SBs, got a thing for pink boxes
Shout out Frankie the Butcher, shout out Mishka in Brooklyn
That’s some nigga from 10.deep ATL, I’m wit’ the cooker
I ain’t e’en tryin’, fool, ho, I ball like private school
You bammas like Hyperstrikes, your wifey sleep outside of you
And Tito’s my niggas, you know just we just need more shit and
It’s ironic how I drop some dough when I got them Homer Simpsons, look
Pine-green Foams, they may never see the store
Got LeBron Entourages like Maverick and Richie Paul
Bitch, I ball, ho, you lame, look at my Laneys, switchin’ lanes
Look at my 9s, look at my Blazers, look at my 4s, cut wit’ laser
Look at my whore, that is your lady, look at my flo’, makin’ y’all crazy
Makin’ y’all sick, y’all cannot tame me, Lexus drive me, Maybach pay me


[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
I said I’m swaggin’ out in my Cool Greys, no LL, but these cool J's
And my wrist froze, but I’m cool sha’, like a bald head, I’m too paid
I’m too blazed, and I’m too high, George Kush, the whole crew high
Wrong move and that tool fly, better calm that ass like Woo-sah
It’s MMG, MOB, young nigga, I been OG
Walk around wit’ like 10 on me, that 5-7, that fen’ on me
Don’t grin on me wit’ them long stares, you ain’t God unless no fear
Big money, all the hoes here, HD, I came so clear
We jeweled out and we racked up, Phantom beep when it back up
Big bullets, look like a Mack truck, shooters ride wit’ that Mac tucked
I’m a Bad Boy, bitch, ask Puff, Sip ciroc its my last cup
On this shit, I can’t stand up, catch a case and ill man up
This Rozay, Wale, Gunplay, and that nigga Pill
In Brazil, and this shit is real, got bad hoes and that Whip Appeal
One week and we get the deal, one day and I fucked the bitch
My Levis, they 501, my snapback is hella bent


[Verse 3: J. Cole]
Fresh-ass nigga, no wonder why them hoes be open
That’s that nigga, so what’d I say? They okey-dokin’
How you figga? You fuckin’ wit’ me? I hope he jokin’
I’m witcha girl, you home alone, bitch you Macauley Culkin
I’m oviedosin’, ay, homie, Cole be smokin’
Then put my ashes on you niggas, bet you gon’ need lotion
I’m slowly roastin’, heatin’ up, so you know we toastin’
Fuck hoes wit’ no emotion, fade away like Kobe postin’
Out in Sweden, like ain’t shit that you can’t tell us
Lord, forgive me, as a kid, I used to look at niggas jealous
‘Cause uh, they had them Js, and my mama wouldn’t cop ‘em
Can you blame her? Hundred dollars for them bitches wann’t a option
Now we livin’ much better, nigga, pay whatever
Rock them bitches once then forgot about ‘em forever
My kicks like my chick, I don’t need to know the numbers
You just need to know I’m comin’, I’ll kill you niggas this summer


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