Playboi Carti – Bust Down lyrics

[Intro: Playboi Carti]
Yo Pi'erre, you wanna come out here?
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yah

[Chorus: Playboi Carti]
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)

[Verse 1: Playboi Carti]
I'm on that slatt shit (yeah), I make it float bitch (yeah)
I'm on that slime shit (yeah), gun to your neck, bitch (slatt)
I'm on them nines bitch (yeah), they ain't goin' for shit (nah)
Lost a hunnit thousand that ain't hurt shit
It cost a hunnit thousand for my necklace
Broke a hunnit thousand hearts quick
Break a hunnit thousand down quick
Bust down Rollie with the kick
Bust down AP look like dis
They ain't never met a boy like dis
Ayy, I'm freestylin', boy, I'm makin' hits
Callin' up the trap, boy, I'm homesick
I got these niggas pissed (yah)

[Chorus: Playboi Carti]
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)

[Verse 2: G Herbo]
Ayy, ayy, you on that hoe shit
I'on fuck with hoe niggas
Ain't tryna kick it witcha
I stay out hoes business
Pull up in Rolls, whippin'
Fuck 'round, let poles hit him
Gone off the percs, trippin'
Who do you [?], no limit
Now y'all up in surgery thinking at first how he just was in perfect condition
I pop out with that .30 and go-go berserk if you put me in certain positions
And I'm in that Vert, switchin'
Lanes on all you bitches
Hell nah, I'm ballin' on you bitches
I John Wall you bitches
Yeah, as you can tell that pasto got me soundin' like I got asthma
Yeah, as you can tell there's a S on the back, that mean my car go faster
You look broke, bastard
FN, I tote plastic
Everything automatic
Two hunnit on this Aston
Still tote the Glock in traffic
Run up on me, I'm blastin'

[Chorus: Playboi Carti]
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah)
I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)
I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)