Yo Gotti & DJ Drama Ft Rich Homie Quan – Mandarin Lyrics

Mandarin Lyrics by Yo Gotti & DJ Drama Ft Rich Homie Quan

[Intro: Yo Gotti & DJ Drama]
(June, you’re a genius)
Frrt
I Showed You So
DJ Drama

[Chorus: Yo Gotti & Rich Homie Quan]
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma
Angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust, you had a chance
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks

[Verse 1: Yo Gotti]
Rose Patek, leather band
‘Member my first thousand grams
They was taxin’ twenty-four, now I’m payin’ Unclе Sam
Street nigga, different bracket
Twеnty mill’ paid in taxes
Tryna get a B, fuck a hundred mill’, so I can’t be relaxin’
Malibu, Nobu, chauffer, but them chopsticks on me
SoHo been me, CEO, but that street shit in me
Break it down, bag it up
Money counter, add it up
Twenty year run, but I ain’t had enough
Them pussy niggas still mad at us
Yeah, and we don’t call ’em AKs, they chopsticks
Home of the triple cross, we call that a plot twist
This rap shit saved me
Weed plug Asian
Gotti, you ridin’ in a Cullinan with a Drac’, boy, you crazy

[Chorus: Yo Gotti & Rich Homie Quan]
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma
Angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust, you had a chance
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks

[Verse 2: Rich Homie Quan]
Eighty-three thousand for the new teeth got a nigga smiling
Check the bitch car fast ’cause a lot of hoes got mileage
The DEA must’ve brought a skillet ’cause the judge want to fry me
I put that shit on every day, so RIP my stylist
Mama said that money startin’ to odor, boy, it’s smellin’ (Ayy)
And I know I’m walkin’ proof you can’t make money as a felon (Nah)
They selfish
Niggas I looked up to, now they jealous (What?)
Chopstick hit your spine and your pelvis (Oh, fah, fah, fah)
High school, I was poppin’, I would never walk to school
Got the chopstick in my bookbag, I ain’t talkin’ ’bout no food
Paper in my bookbag too, I’m lookin’ for space (Rich Homie)
I’m at that restaurant in Buckhead where they cook it in your face
[Chorus: Yo Gotti & Rich Homie Quan]
Chopstick, Benihana
Main a ten, been a hundred
PSD, lot of trauma
Angel wings, sad mamas
Chopstick, Taliban (Woo)
Chinese plug, Mandarin
Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust, you had a chance
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks
In the hood, we don’t call ’em AKs, boy, we call ’em chopsticks (Gangsta Grizzilz)

[Outro: Rich Homie Quan, DJ Drama, & Yo Gotti]
Chopsticks
In the hood, they call me Chef Boyardram
Chopsticks
You niggas lookin’ a lil’ sweet and sour over there
Chopsticks
Chopsticks
Don’t get mad