Artist: Rich Homie Quan
Album:  ABTA: Still Going In (Mixtape)
Song:   Pablo
Typed by: AZ Lyrics

Yeah, true story, so listen

I save my money
First class I flew
I could've bought a jet
But I bought a coupe
Red carpet with a model bitch
You on the red carpet with a prostitute
Red target on a fuck nigga head
I don't shoot if somebody'll do it
It's a dead target [?] dead man
Put him in the woods, throw him away and lose it
Up in a hot box, heard the cop behind me
Gotta get away, and we gotta lose him
Bass in the trunk, turn up my music
Bass in the trunk, talking 'bout that toolie
Hold up, wait, slow it down
I just seen twelve, turn around
I roll the window down
It don't matter, we been burnin' it down, all day, all day
(Woo woo) That's the sound we heard
I ain't pulling over, took 'em on a high speed chase
I ain't pulling over, no I ain't pulling over, no I ain't pulling over
My dad's 100, plus another fuckin' hunnid, ain't no sense in pulling over
Had to swallow my pack, I ain't put it in my crack when I seen 'em in my rear view
Gotta always adapt, it don't matter where you at, gotta make them niggas feel you
‘Cause I got bread by the motherfuckin' loaf
Shorty give head on the motherfuckin' low
Shorty she was scared so I kept it on the low
I had to get some head from my motherfuckin' folks
And she didn't tell nobody, I stuck it in her motherfuckin' throat
That pussy smell like water, mm, mm, good

[Chorus]
I got money just like Pablo
I told my cousin, Gustavo
Put a million dollar cash money in my momma coucho
Colombian cheese, no Mexican, I ain't talking 'bout nachos
I feel like Pablo ‘cause I do this shit for my muchachos
I'm a walking lick, I know these niggas plottin' on me
No disrespect but I got these El Chapo's on me
I hope you ready for war

Running the road down
Shooting at all of these niggas
No homo, put him in the birthday suit
Take the drawers off that nigga
Hold up, wait, he the type of nigga talk to twelve
Yeah, and call on me nigga
He ain't even blood to me, he lame to me
I got a baby mama, motherfucker suckin' me
On the low low, you feel me?
Fuck her on the floor beside her children
He don't know even when she trippin'
Pablo money, sixty million
They don't like she fuck with a nigga like me, you feel me?
Who the fuck put the red dot on me?
Now they all on my tail, but guess what?
I ain't pulling over, nigga I ain't pulling over, nigga I ain't pulling over
I ain't pulling over, nigga I ain't pulling over, nigga I ain't pulling over
My dad's 100, plus another fuckin' hunnid, ain't no sense in pulling over
Gotta always adapt, it don't matter where you at, gotta make them niggas feel you

[Chorus]
I got money just like Pablo
I told my cousin, Gustavo
Put a million dollar cash money in my momma coucho
Colombian cheese, no Mexican, I ain't talking 'bout nachos
I feel like Pablo ‘cause I do this shit for my muchachos
I'm a walking lick, I know these niggas plottin' on me
No disrespect but I got these El Chapo's on me
I hope you ready for war
I hope you ready for war