At the House

(Izze The Producer) uh huh
Ayy, what up? It’s Dolph
I do this shit for real, my nigga

That two-seater, fully loaded (Skrrt)
This Swisher Sweet, fully loaded (Damn)
This wrist piece, fully loaded
So this four five, fully loaded (Baow)
Them young niggas, I can’t control 'em
Pull up with a thirty thousand dollar motor
Eyes low, 'cause I'm never sober
'cause I’m a mud drinker and a strong smoker
Got a little bitch that get money
Out pure passion and strokers
My old head nigga said, "You
Get too much money
Young nigga stay focused!"
Had an out of state plug
When I was nineteen nigga
So I ain’t ever been local
Jumped in this rap game, spent a little bit
Of change, brought the streets with me
Now it’s time to take over!
That’s that Paper Route Empire shit
Got a white girl that like to twerk
And she on that Miley Cyrus shit
Don’t need no pen, don’t need no paper
Just give me a track, and I’ll demolish it
I’m on the other side of the country
With fifty Ps in my closet, bitch!

I have the bread in the house
In the bed, in the couch (Ayy)
I came up with a multi-million
Dollar plan at the house (Word)
I don't trust these hoes
So I don’t get head at the house (Hell no)
I just woke up out a nightmare
Fucking feds ran in the house
Press up CDs at the house
Weighing Ps at the house (Yup, yup)
Hell nah
I ain’t never had no keys at the house
Lotta pistols
A hundred thousand dollar wardrobe
At the house (Hey)
Fresh as fuck and strapped up
Every time I leave the house (Uh, huh)

I got no cable at the house
Just plenty paper at the house
I ain’t talking hoes when I say
I got flavors at the house
Stack my paper to the ceiling
Went and bought mama a house
Said, "Mama, do me a favor
And keep yo ass up out the South"
Now mama waving at her white neighbors
Just chillin at the house
But daddy just like me
That nigga still running in and out
What you doing in the hood dad?
"Young nigga watch your mouth"
My mama just called me tipsy
Say she brought me in and she’ll take me out
(What?) godamn, what the fuck? yeah I’m
Still dealin' with this
Daddy just like me, south Memphis nigga
That’s real nigga shit (It's Dolph)
Hood nigga run through a
Couple hundred bands while
I’m eating on a box of Popeyes
I’m connected like Wi-Fi nigga that’s why

I have the bread in the house
In the bed, in the couch (Ayy)
I came up with a multi-million
Dollar plan at the house (Word)
I don't trust these hoes
So I don’t get head at the house (Hell no)
I just woke up out a nightmare
Fucking feds ran in the house
Press up CDs at the house
Weighing Ps at the house (Yup, yup)
Hell nah
I ain’t never had no keys at the house
Lotta pistols
A hundred thousand dollar wardrobe
At the house (Hey)
Fresh as fuck and strapped up
Every time I leave the house (Uh, huh)