Young Dolph - Rich Slave Lyrics

(Drumma Boy)
All them diamond chains, he look like a rich slave
All them diamond chains, he look like a rich slave
Yeah, yeah
Uh

Ayy, Chuck Taylors on and a whole lot of ice (ayy)
Just to get right, had to gamble with my life (ayy)
While you was thinkin' twice, I already rolled the dice (trap)
Weighin' bags, runnin' in and out all night (trap)
Sing to your bitch like I'm Brian McKnight (woo)
Smokin' on some 41, call it Glen Rice (Gelato)
Ten cars outside and all my shit tight (skrrt)
Trap nigga, but I fuck my bitch to Barry White (uh)

Told my hitman put him on the hitlist (yeah)
Tat my neighborhood on me 'cause it made me rich (hah)
Made more money in my hood than Money Makin' Mitch (it's Dolph)
Stand ten toes down, nigga, don't flinch (uh-uh)
Nah, don't switch (never), Dolph, you the shit (thank you)
I was drinkin' lean back when Puff was drinkin' Cris' (raw)
Jumped in this rap shit and I hit a lick (damn)
When I die, split the M's, give 'em to my kids
All blue diamonds, I don't look like them (it's Dolph)
Blueberry Dolph what they call me nowadays (hah)
Used to sell a whole lot of bags around the way (trap)
Bury me in an AP in my grave (yeah)
All them diamond chains, he look like a rich slave (what?)
All them diamond chains, he look like a rich slave
Came out my mama, doctor smacked my ass
I ain't start cryin', looked at him, said, "Nigga, get paid" (yeah, yeah)
Hah, yeah, I hate fame, but everybody know my name (yeah)
Hate come with money and they both come with the game (yeah)
Everybody love me now, this shit seem strange (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
All them diamond chains, he look like a rich slave (uh)
All them diamond chains, he look like a rich slave (uh)
All them diamond chains, he look like a rich slave

Ayy, Chuck Taylors on and a whole lot of ice (ayy)
Just to get right, had to gamble with my life (ayy)
While you was thinkin' twice, I already rolled the dice (trap)
Weighin' bags, runnin' in and out all night (trap)
Sing to your bitch like I'm Brian McKnight (woo)
Smokin' on some 41, call it Glen Rice (Gelato)
Ten cars outside and all my shit tight (skrrt)
Trap nigga, but I fuck my bitch to Barry White (uh)

Big Tre-Tre
What's up, Ari?
Paper Route Business