Here Are the Lyrics to Drake & 21 Savage’s ‘Rich Flex’

Go buy a zip of weed, hit the club
Pay for ’bout ten n—as to get in, we crunk, lit, in this bi—, yeah
Know we walk around the world
Steppin’, not givin a damn ’bout where our feet land at, yeah
Get you’re a– mushed, smooshed (6ix)
Yeah, 21, the biggest
Put a n—a in the chicken wing, p—y

21, can you do somethin’ for me? (21)
Can you hit a lil’ rich flex for me? (21)
And 21, can you do somethin’ for me? (21, 21)
Drop some bars to my p—y ex for me
Then 21 (21), can you do somethin’ for me? (Yeah)
Can you talk to the opps necks for me? (Okay)
21, do your thing 21, do your thing (21)
Do your thing, 21, yeah, okay

Yellow diamonds in the watch, this sh– cost a lot
Never send a bi— your dot, that’s how you get shot
I DM in Vanish Mode, I do that sh– a lot
Took her panties off and this bi— thicker than the plot
All my exes ain’t nothin’, them h–s busted
If my opps ain’t rappin’, they a– duckin’
You ain’t ready to pull the trigger, don’t clutch it
I know you on your period, baby, can you suck it?
I’m a savage (21)
Smack her booty in Magic (21, 21)
I’ll slap a p—y n—a with the ratchet (p—y)
I might slap a tracker on his whip and get the addy (p—y)
Don’t call me on Christmas Eve, bi—, call your daddy (21)
Bi—, call your uncle (21), bi—, don’t call me (21)
Always in my L, your h- a flea (f—)
Why my opps be posting guns and only use they feet? (21)
Paid like an athlete, I got-

All you h–s, all of you h–s need to remember who y’all talkin’ to
It’s a Slaughter Gang CEO
I got dick for you if I’m not workin’, girl
If I’m busy, then f— no
You need to find you someone else to call
When your bank account get low, you need to find you someone-

Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
I’m on that Slaughter Gang sh–, ayy, murder gang sh–
Ayy, Slaughter Gang sh–, ayy, murder gang sh–, ayy

Stick and stones, chrome on chrome
That’s just what a n—a on
Internet clones, got ’em kissin’ through the phone
P—ies cliquin’ up so they don’t feel alone, ayy
Nan’ n—a seein’ me, I’m Young Money CMB
I used to roll with CMG, the house is not a BNB
The bad bi—es waitin’ on a n—a like I’m PND
I’m steady pushin’ P, you n—as pushin’ PTSD
I told her a– to kiss me in the club, f— a TMZ
I used to want a GMC, when Woe was doin’ BNE
We revvin’ up and goin’ on a run like we DMC
I layup with her for a couple days, then its BRB
You rappers love askin’ if I f—ed, when you know we did
When you know we did
She came in heels but she left out on her cozy sh–
Ayy, I’m livin every twenty-four like Kobe did
Shoutout to the 6ix, R.I.P to 8
Swear this sh– is gettin’ ate, I’m on ten for the cake
Get a lot of love from twelve, but I don’t reciprocate
Fifty-one division stay patrollin’ when it’s late
21 my addy, so the knife is on the gate
All the dawgs eatin’ off a Baccarat plate
N—as see Drake and they underestimate
Take it from a vet’, that’s a rookie a– mistake, ayy

Ah, what, what
Slaughter Gang sh–, ayy, murder gang sh–
Ayy, Slaughter Gang sh–, ayy, murder gang sh–
Ayy, Slaughter Gang sh–, ayy, murder gang sh–
On God
Boy, look, you the motherf—in’ man, boy, you, ooh
You is the man, you hear me?

Lyrics licensed & provided by LyricFind

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Written by: Aubrey Graham, Sheyaa Bin Abraham-Joseph, Anderson Hernandez, Brytavious Chambers, Michael Mule, Isaac John De Boni, Jamal Gwin, Megan Pete, Anthony White, Bobby Sessions, Clifford Harris, Aldrin Davis