Hot Wings lyrics - 2 Chainz

 (Hit-Boy)

I'm the big homie now

Don't forget that, I'm the big homie now

I got my spunk, Louie Vuitton

Truck in the front, what're you doin'?

I look so good, don't call me Unc'

She wanna suck, this ain't a Buick

I pull it up, they wanna fuck

We gon' get high, what're we doing?

I got some Perc, I got a pound

I got a crib, let's go get to it

I got a semi, I got a Draco

Word to my family, straight outta ClayCo

Thought I was sweet, just like a Faygo

But I had killers all on my payroll

Watch how I move, just like it Rayon

64 Chainz, just like the crayons

I bought a hat, the one with the A on it

Pulled out my dick, told her to stay on it

I had a paper tag on three of 'em

I had the top dropped with the friends

I told 'em deuce, one like Deion

I say deuce, one like Deion

I go Bruce Wayne on you peons

Shit, I fuck with the Falcons, true (True)

Had more sacks than a lineman

I shoulda got a Heisman too, nigga, ha

Shit, shoot 'cause they hikin' that, hike

Check like a Nike hat, yup

I got the Midas pack, uh

Told the bih "Quiet, relax," uh

I got my ho on the other line

I'm not bipolar, but borderline

I just might switch lanes, drop her off

Go back, get fried

That's all she want, hot wings

Bitches fuckin' for some hot wings

Bitches fuckin' for American Deli

Bitches fuckin' for some eye cream

She just want her twenty piece

All flats with the lemon pepper

I was the first one to put her in the first class

Bitch, get your shit together

Bitch ain't never flown before

Bitch tried to come through security

With some tennis shoes on, ho

Take the shit off, bitch

Real big, big boss music (Boss music)

Big boss music

Big boss, big, big boss music (Boss)

That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music

That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

You better get used to it

Ain't no falling off, niggas goin' straight up

You better get used to it

I need a raise, I ain't taking paycuts

You better get used to it

100 for a verse, 100 for a show

You better get used to it

Every ten a mill', on the low

I'm all about the bag, no need to brag

Ring cost a Jag, dreads to the back like a shag

Smoke you like SIG in the mag

I'm all over that

They callin' me Flair

They callin' me DiBiase

My girl ballin, Taurasi

2 Chainz, time Versaci

They don't sell 'em in Foot Locker

Curve game on BluBlocker

Southside with a F

F stand for a few options

Dealership, I don't do auctions

Fuck clothes, I need a new closet

My new watch is moonwalkin'

This somethin' she don't do often

Bitch ain't never flown before (Uh)

Bitch tried to come through security

With some tennis shoes on, ho

Take the shit off, bitch

Real big, big boss music (Yeah)

Big boss music

Big boss, big, big boss music (I'm the big homie now)

That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music

(I'm the big homie)

That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music (Big, big)

Big boss music

Big, big, big boss music (I'm the big homie now)

Big boss music (Yeah)

I'm the big homie now, yeah

I'm the big homie now