Ello - Top Floor 2 Lyrics

I'm on that top floor shit, man You can't even get in
Like what do you mean brand new glock get to glitchin
Niggas all talk but no i never Listen
All black for the fit on my jacket, It's Christian Dior
F*ck her then I'm out the door
Now she callin' me a whore
Sorry baby, took her right to the Store
Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe
You are watching a master at work
What! What! What! What! (Top floor bitch)
Huh? (Im onnat Top Floor Shi)
Huh? (What)
Go, Go, Go, Go
I'm on that top floor shit, man you can't even get in
Like, what do you mean brand New Glock get to glitchin
Niggas all talk, but no I never listen
All black for the fit on my jacket It's Christian Dior
F*ck her, then I'm out the door
Now she callin' me a whore
Sorry, baby, I took her right to the store
Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe
I do this shit in my sleep (Do it in my sleep)
My name Ringin' bells, I swerved this bitch right off the lot
You woulda thought i was Yeat
No Jimmy I'm packin the heat, a nigga run up, I'm hitting delete
Im sippin' that motherf*ckin wocky, im outta my body like Bitch im so geeked
Huh lets run up 10 bands in a week (Huh)
If a nigga aint talking bout money, these niggas be funny do not talk to me
Cause I got a brand new *****
And that bitch came with a beam
Spanish bitch, think her name *****
She do whatever I please
She understand right when I leave, cause she know im chasin the cheese
I'm on that top floor shit, man you can't even get in
Like, what do you mean, brand new Glock get to glitchin'
Niggas all talk, but no I never listen
All black for the fit on my jacket Its Christian Dior
F*ck her, then I'm out the door
Now she callin' me a whore
Sorry,baby I took her right to the store
Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe
Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe, Phillipe
She rockin' Patek Phillip
Bitch, I'm too hot, like 200 degrees
I'm droppin' the top on the wraith, feel the breeze
I running this shit, man, I do it with ease
Got freaky bitches all the way overseas
I'm on that top floor shit, man you can't even get in
Like, what do you mean, brand new Glock get to glitchin'
Niggas all talk, but no I never listen
All black for the fit on my jacket it's Christian Dior
F*ck her, then I'm out the door
Now she callin' me a whore
Sorry, baby, I took her right to the store
Come out now she rocking Patek Phillipe
I do this shit in my sleep (Do it in my sleep)
My name Ringin' bells, I swerved this bitch right off the lot
You woulda thought i was Yeat
No Jimmy I'm packin the heat, a Nigga run up, I'm hitting delete
Im sippin' that motherf*ckin wocky, im outta my body like bitch im so geeked
Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)
Shit! (Woa)
Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)
Shit! (Woa)
Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)
Top Floor, Top Floor (Shit!)