Hold Up

Hold up
Franky style baby
My life is spicy
Gnd studio
Yeah baby
Hold up

Hold up, let's stay alone
In front of the waves
With a rum and coke
If the hours fly by

Baby, if you want a joint, I also have the bong
Let's try my harvest, I have a lot left
Let's go to the couch, for a reggaeton
She doesn't pay attention to her boyfriend and I don't pay attention to my homies

When the phone rings, her face
If I say 'be,' she stops
She grabs that rum, prepares
When she moves that body, she stops
That shit she tells you, weren't you just fake?

Those guys want war, they're looking for a fight
I have time for music and to take a break
My white boys are street but all the ways
And if she sends me a message to give her more
Your father, your boyfriend, I don't care at all
Those guys are clear about who they're with

They want to give Franky some trouble but he doesn't give in
Those guys because of my song they want to give me
Those bitches because of my song they want to give me
The neighbors greet me when I go out to buy
The neighbors greet me when they see me coming in, Franky style