Headed To A Check Lyrics

Uh, Soulja

I whip a Maserati

Soulja

King Soulja the mixtape, King Soulja the movie

Gwap ah

Wake up in the morning and I’m headed to a check (bands)

Always gotta count that money when I flex (damn)

Wake up in the morning and I’m headed to a check (okay)

Countin up them sacks (sacks), flexin with the check (the check)

I’m headed to a check check, I’m headed to a check check

I’m headed to a check check, on my way to a check

I’m headed to a check check, I’m headed to a check check

I’m headed to a check on my way to a check hey

Rich Gang, Soulja Boy

Bands in my pocket pocket, 9 mm

Bitch I’m shootin lil rockets

Pull up to the car show, I’m springin, I got springers

Lil Dreg on ball and that’s on everything (who that? Who that?)

Woke up in a Gati, whip a Maserati

Porsche game clean Dre, but my whip gonna slap me

Money Gang retarded, bitch don’t get me started

If I T on the Challenge I swear I’m gon call it

Soulja I ball, ridin down that highway

Got the drop top Maybach sittin in the driveway

Hit the secret Sundays, ballin to the Monday

Flexin so hard, Soulja Boy be gwapin

Yea gwap gwap, pull up to the trap trap

Bitch I got blocks blocks

Bitch I got knocks uh

Gucci on my socks, Louie on my boxers

SOD, Rich Gang, we took over boy

I’m headed to a check check, I’m headed to a check check

I’m headed to a check check, on my way to a check

I’m headed to a check, I’m headed to a check

I’m headed to a check on my way to a check hey

Gwap

Gwap

SOD

King King

They takin pictures, putting that shit on Instagram

500 racks that’s Amsterdam

Swervin in that foreign Porsche, all through highly worried

Hopping out that in and out, I’m smoking on this kush (Soulja)

Call Soulja Beezy B or call me Rich Gang Soulja Boy

Soulja Boy, bricks on bricks on bricks, that’s what I Soulja Boy

Ridin through the hood, everything all good

2-15’s in my trunk, sounding like Jurassic Park

Ridin through my city and I’m cut through hittin scar

SOD get money, I will tear your life apart

I flex, Cuban links on neck, boy done jet

Hop up off the private plane, I’m smoking on that Mary Jane, 3-16 like hurricane

Soulja Boy spit fire flame (you ain’t lying)

Inside that drop top Porsche

I am, I do, (I’m just doing my thing boy)

Check, I’m headed to a check (gwap)

Headed to a check, money headed to a check

On the way to a check, headed to a check (bands)

Headed to a check (sacks)

Headed to a check (bags) yea