Soulja Boy – Headed To A Check lyrics

Uh, Soulja
I whip a Maserati
Soulja
King Soulja the mixtape, King Soulja the movie
Gwap ah

Wake up in the morning and I’m headed to a check (bands)
Always gotta count that money when I flex (damn)
Wake up in the morning and I’m headed to a check (okay)
Countin up them sacks (sacks), flexin with the check (the check)

I’m headed to a check check, I’m headed to a check check
I’m headed to a check check, on my way to a check
I’m headed to a check check, I’m headed to a check check
I’m headed to a check on my way to a check hey

Rich Gang, Soulja Boy

Bands in my pocket pocket, 9 mm
Bitch I’m shootin lil rockets
Pull up to the car show, I’m springin, I got springers
Lil Dreg on ball and that’s on everything (who that? Who that?)
Woke up in a Gati, whip a Maserati
Porsche game clean Dre, but my whip gonna slap me
Money Gang retarded, bitch don’t get me started
If I T on the Challenge I swear I’m gon call it
Soulja I ball, ridin down that highway
Got the drop top Maybach sittin in the driveway
Hit the secret Sundays, ballin to the Monday
Flexin so hard, Soulja Boy be gwapin
Yea gwap gwap, pull up to the trap trap
Bitch I got blocks blocks
Bitch I got knocks uh
Gucci on my socks, Louie on my boxers
Sod, Rich Gang, we took over boy

I’m headed to a check check, I’m headed to a check check
I’m headed to a check check, on my way to a check
I’m headed to a check, I’m headed to a check
I’m headed to a check on my way to a check hey

Gwap
Gwap
Sod
King King

They takin pictures, putting that shit on Instagram
500 racks that’s Amsterdam
Swervin in that foreign Porsche, all through highly worried
Hopping out that in and out, I’m smoking on this kush (Soulja)
Call Soulja Beezy B or call me Rich Gang Soulja Boy
Soulja Boy, bricks on bricks on bricks, that’s what I Soulja Boy
Ridin through the hood, everything all good
2-15’s in my trunk, sounding like Jurassic Park
Ridin through my city and I’m cut through hittin scar
Sod get money, I will tear your life apart
I flex, Cuban links on neck, boy done jet
Hop up off the private plane, I’m smoking on that Mary Jane, 3-16 like hurricane
Soulja Boy spit fire flame (you ain’t lying)
Inside that drop top Porsche
I am, I do, (I’m just doing my thing boy)

Check, I’m headed to a check (gwap)
Headed to a check, money headed to a check
On the way to a check, headed to a check (bands)
Headed to a check (sacks)
Headed to a check (bags) yea