Lyrics Finesse Remix By Alamo Records OnLine | Musica Lyrics

Alamo Records - Finesse Remix Lyrics

[Intro: BossMan Dlow]
Nigga, yeah, yeah
Big Za
(Gentle Beatz)
Nigga, nigga

[Chorus: BossMan Dlow]
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)

[Verse 1: BossMan Dlow]
I 'member breakin' into houses, okay, where the cameras at? (Where they at?)
Now I got like thirty G's stuffed inside a fanny pack (Racks, nigga)
Plug threw a nine-piece, okay, bet, I'ma handle that (I'ma get it done)
You ain't keep it P? Okay, bet, stand on that (Stand on that)
All these designer clothes, I look like a damn booster (Haha)
Hundred in a sixty, fuck state troopers (Fuck 'em)
Phone chirpin' in the mornin', bae, we roosters
Them niggas ain't ballin', bae, we hoopers (Splash)
Huh? Bae, we D1 (Yeah)
We ain't worried 'bout nothin', bae, I got funds (Yeah)
Re-up on some— yeah, yeah (Yeah)
Re-up on some— shh, hit the trap, get it done (Nigga)
[Chorus: BossMan Dlow & GloRilla]
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Woo)
And I'm 'bout my check (Hey), you better come correct (GloRilla)
These hoes stay choosin' (On gang, gang), trap straight boomin' (On gang, gang)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)

[Verse 2: GloRilla]
These bitches ain't no competition, man, these hoes stay losin'
They talkin' gangster shit, but I'm the bitch you hoes ain't foolin'
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, man, you niggas ain't shooters
You hangin' with the niggas that bucked you for your pistol, you a brewster
I can make my throat stretch (Ayy), I can make a mess (Woo)
Instead, ran up a couple hundred thousand, went thirty days no sex
You know how lame it is to confront me about a nigga through a text?
You know how fast I'll turn your favorite nigga into your favorite ex, ho? (Haha)
Fuck, abracadabra on your ass
Stop blowin' him up, he with me, lil sis, we laughin' at your ass (Stupid)
I ain't puttin' that shit on, I can show them what that shit is (On God)
Mirror, mirror on the wall, tell me who that bitch is (On gang, gang)

[Chorus: BossMan Dlow]
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (Finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (Beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (Come correct)
These hoes stay choosin' (Huh?), trap straight boomin' (Yeah)
I'm a pack mover (Yeah), I'm a weight loser (Yeah)