Bust Down Lyrics - G Herbo

[Intro: Playboi Carti] 

Yo Pi'erre, you wanna come out here? 

Yeah, yeah 

Yeah, yeah, yeah 

Yeah, yah 

[Chorus: Playboi Carti] 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

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[Verse 1: Playboi Carti] 

I'm on that slatt shit, I make it float bitch (yeah) 

I'm on that slime shit, gun to your neck, bitch (slatt) 

I'm on them nines bitch, they ain't goin' for shit (nah) 

Lost a hunnit thousand that ain't hurt shit 

It cost a hunnit thousand for my necklace 

Broke a hunnit thousand hearts quick 

Break a hunnit thousand down quick 

Bust down Rollie with the kick 

Bust down AP look like dis 

They ain't never met a boy like dis 

Ayy, I'm freestylin', boy, I'm makin' hits 

Callin' up the trap, boy, I'm homesick 

I got these niggas pissed (yah) 

[Chorus: Playboi Carti] 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

[Verse 2: G Herbo] 

Ayy, ayy, you on that hoe shit 

I'on fuck with hoe niggas 

Ain't tryna kick it witcha 

I stay out hoes business 

Pull up in Rolls, whippin' 

Fuck 'round, let poles hit him 

Gone off the percs, trippin' 

Who do you [?], no limit 

Now y'all up in surgery thinking at first how he just was in perfect condition 

I pop out with that .30 and go-go berserk if you put me in certain positions 

And I'm in that Vert, switchin' 

Lanes on all you bitches 

Hell nah, I'm ballin' on you bitches 

I John Wall you bitches 

Yeah, as you can tell that pasto got me soundin' like I got asthma 

Yeah, as you can tell there's a S on the back, that mean my car go faster 

You look broke, bastard 

FN, I tote plastic 

Everything automatic 

Two hunnit on this Aston 

Still tote the Glock in traffic 

Run up on me, I'm blastin' 

[Chorus: Playboi Carti] 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yeah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah) 

I'm on that tote shit (yeah), I'm on that tote shit (yah)