2 Chainz, Lil Wayne & Benny the Butcher – Oprah & Gayle Lyrics

Album on Welcome 2 Collegrove

[Intro: 2 Chainz]
Collegrove

[Verse 1: 2 Chainz]
Checkerboard luggage, Ramen in the cupboard
I left Art Basel with a sculpture
You listening to the lyrical nunchuck chuckle at dumbfucks
Vocals warmed up, beyond Ford tough
I kept my lawn cut, mispell and conduct
I got my arm out the window of an armed truck
It’s Teamster Union when you hear the trucks roll up
On Cleveland Avenue, made plays at the Kroger
Came up on cold cuts, heart got a hole in it, bank got a roll in it
The Cessna Citation came with a pole in it
The Cullinan so big, it need a stove in it
Now that’s deep, I just dove in it
The closet came with garage doors
The Goyard is on all fours, I do this shit for encores
I did this shit in Tom Ford, they said I’m wrong for it
I’m so fly, I looked at her and said, “Get on board”
It’s the man, it’s the myth, in the midst of the mix
With the M’s on my mind, in Maui taking pics
Motivated by more, that mean I want more of this
I want more jewelry, more cars, I want more cribs
What you expect from a kid
That grew up with his stomach touching his rib?
Echos coming from out the fridge
My papa was a rolling stone, I thought you knew that
Don’t smoke no cig but I’ll shoot that, true facts

[Interlude: Lil Wayne]
Nah’mean?
My lighter St. Laurent
Yeah, that St. Laurent fire
You gotta hold your hand midair when you do a verse like this
Yeah

[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
Uh, hoppin’ out or slide out, runnin’ through a walkthrough
Coupe on big wheels like a pony wearin’ horse shoes
Tall money, short fuse, long money, long ooh
Champagne Papi part two, she my corkscrew
Tattoos over war wounds, wrist look like its on Zoom
Neck look like anime or cartoons, art to ‘em
I got the spikes on the Gucci, look like Bart to ‘em
Gimmie the Nikes, lemme add some Comme Des Garcons to ‘em
Stunt man, verses in my lunch bag, rappers on my launch pad
Chopper make ‘em do the Kris Kross or make ‘em jump dance
Lump somes, hump bands
What’s a young man without a check? Just a Jumpman
Fuck that, Jordan meme
I’ma sip some lean, get a ting and go quarantine
I’ma get some bling let it bling like some Oil Sheen
I’ma put some fuckin’ princess cuts on a queen
And I keep all of the chin check stubs I redeem
This our team, my regimen, I’m a higher being
Purple smoke, fire green, sweet ‘n’ sour cream
Peakin’ higher now we towering, peak position
Give my people power, now we power fiends, it’s addiction
Feelin’ like a boxer steppin’ out the ring, you swing, you missin’
Critically thinkin’ ‘bout the critics up in critical condition
I’m in pitiful condition, scratch that but who was itchin’?
Teamsters, the Union did it
Tune and Tity, Young Money, T.R.U. Religion

[Interlude: Lil Wayne]
It’s some Teamsters shit
This a Saint Laurent lighter, woo!
I got “stoner-virus,” baby
Ho right there, she got “Patron-a-virus,” hmm-mm
And ho over there, she wouldn’t let me fuck
So now she got “loney-virus”, alright
Ayy, stop leasin’ niggas
We gotta get that “homeowner-virus” like me

[Verse 3: Benny The Butcher]
Yo, they was laughin’, but we was smart drug trafficking
We was sharks (Uh-huh)
I had to chase the paper down ’til we trapped the money in vaults
Kinda crazy, my last bid was the shortest and she ain’t wait for me
Spent half my twenties in prison and aged gracefully
For paper, you know we grind, place a wager
And you’ll be fine (Uh-huh)
I put my fork down now every major want me to sign
Left the hood for Hollywood
It wasn’t worth being famous (It wasn’t worth it)
Where every chick got a Beamer and a personal trainer (Ha-ha)
I’m into business moves, she into Paris fashion (Uh-huh)
It cost me at least twenty grand a year on her hair and lashes
Love I done inherited, music was both of my parents’ passion
My name come up when you talkin’ dope and comparing classics (Uh-huh, uh-huh)
Stare at me good, ’cause this how pressure look
They want my spot but tryna skip every step I took
I wish ’em the best of luck
I asked a question, and he gave me an answer
That still left a nigga confused like Brady in Tampa
Back home, I’m one of the Narcos, semi autos
Dodge fans like New York City potholes
Yeah, the OGs think that it’s funny, money made me more hungry
‘Cause majority wait til they chubby and then get comfy, nah
Get that first case then you learn to appreciate
All the risks you gotta take to turn a Ford to a Wraith (Uh-huh)
I’m checkin’ in on my hood, like I hope all is well
I’m still close to my scale, we like Oprah and Gayle

[Outro]
You get a Rollie, you get a Rollie
You get a Rollie! You get a Rollie!
Everybody gets a Rollie!
You get a Rollie, you get a Rollie
You get a Rollie too!
Everybody gets a Rollie!