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Sauce Walka - MADE BY RICH GOD Lyrics

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Sauce Walka - MADE BY RICH GOD Lyrics
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Know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
Spilled it right in her hand though
Know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
Ooh-wee (Reco on the beat so I can kill this beat)

Wockhardt drippin' on her nipple
I'm a player type of nigga, lil' ho, plain and simple
Tom Ford on my skin, got her showin' all her dimples
It's a box on the Glock, try me out, I won't miss you
Made by Rich God, nah, these ain't Gallery (yeah)
Money I done spent at Louis, that's a doctor salary (yeah, yeah)
I'm the type to slap security if they ever handle me (yeah, ayy)
It can be Tyson Fury, still divin' in his teeth (ooh-wee)

Know I'm sayin'? What you talkin' 'bout? (Talkin' 'bout)
Catch me with three black bitches up in Waffle House (Waffle House)
Got a bag full of 'za, they thought it was brussel sprouts
Why she all up in my face with that booty bussin' out? Turn her out
I'm a qua-qua sipper (sipper), Don Wraith whipper (whipper)
Buddy somewhere in the sky, last nigga played with us (drip)
Any leftovers, know the Lord savin' 'em (ayy)
Shorty askin' have you ever? Sound like Ray J sister (ayy)
Broke my toe standin' on the business (ayy)
Seen lil' bro get forty years, he couldn't stand up on the witness (ayy)
Still an ig'nant rich nigga, I'll stand up on a Bentley
Baby, you so f*ckin' bad that I got to give you discipline (ooh-wee)

Wockhardt drippin' on her nipple
Player-player type of nigga, lil' ho, plain and simple
Ford-Ford on my skin, got her showin' all her dimples
It's a box on the Glock, try me out, I won't miss you
Made by-made by Rich God, nah, these ain't Gallery
Money I done spent at Louis-Louis, that's a doctor salary
I'm the type to slap, security-security if they ever handle me
It can be Tyson, still-still divin' in his teeth

Ooh-wee
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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English

Know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
Spilled it right in her hand though
Know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
Ooh-wee (Reco on the beat so I can kill this beat)

Wockhardt drippin' on her nipple
I'm a player type of nigga, lil' ho, plain and simple
Tom Ford on my skin, got her showin' all her dimples
It's a box on the Glock, try me out, I won't miss you
Made by Rich God, nah, these ain't Gallery (yeah)
Money I done spent at Louis, that's a doctor salary (yeah, yeah)
I'm the type to slap security if they ever handle me (yeah, ayy)
It can be Tyson Fury, still divin' in his teeth (ooh-wee)

Know I'm sayin'? What you talkin' 'bout? (Talkin' 'bout)
Catch me with three black bitches up in Waffle House (Waffle House)
Got a bag full of 'za, they thought it was brussel sprouts
Why she all up in my face with that booty bussin' out? Turn her out
I'm a qua-qua sipper (sipper), Don Wraith whipper (whipper)
Buddy somewhere in the sky, last nigga played with us (drip)
Any leftovers, know the Lord savin' 'em (ayy)
Shorty askin' have you ever? Sound like Ray J sister (ayy)
Broke my toe standin' on the business (ayy)
Seen lil' bro get forty years, he couldn't stand up on the witness (ayy)
Still an ig'nant rich nigga, I'll stand up on a Bentley
Baby, you so f*ckin' bad that I got to give you discipline (ooh-wee)

Wockhardt drippin' on her nipple
Player-player type of nigga, lil' ho, plain and simple
Ford-Ford on my skin, got her showin' all her dimples
It's a box on the Glock, try me out, I won't miss you
Made by-made by Rich God, nah, these ain't Gallery
Money I done spent at Louis-Louis, that's a doctor salary
I'm the type to slap, security-security if they ever handle me
It can be Tyson, still-still divin' in his teeth

Ooh-wee
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Albert Walker Jr., David Armstead IV, Jarrian Thompson
Copyright: Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING
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