Spent a bag on my wrist, yeah
Spent a bag on my bitch, yeah
Spent another bag on a whip, yeah
Bank account still look lit
Lookin' like I just hit a lick, yeah
Still ride 'round with a stick
Fakeness make me sick, yeah
We get lit, get lit
We get lit, get lit, yeah
We get lit, make hits, yeah
I don't ever tweak or twitch, yeah
Bad bitches give me lip
I got a shooter that keeps my 6, yeah
Shooter got aim, don't miss, yeah
I'll never worry 'bout shit, yeah
All I care about is gettin' rich
'Cause I got a bag to claim
And I got M's to make
I'm layin' low, workin' hard
Why you so mad at me?
Why you so mad at me?
Why you so mad at me?
I'm laying' low, workin' hard
Why you so mad at me?
Why you so?
You can stay mad at me, I ain't even mindin' you
Think I might take your girl without even tryin' to
She tellin' you it's nothing 'cause she can't confide in you
I'm givin' her everything that she couldn't find in you
And maybe it's better that way, she knows its better my way
I ain't got time to just chill, everytime pussy get killed
Bringin' her pleasure, my pleasure
I go harder under pressure
Treat her like work and I stretch her
She only cum if I let her
Now she know what dealin' with the man feel like
Came around and showed her what she can feel like
And she love it when I let her count my racks
I told you, I ain't never going back
So I got a bag to claim
And I got M's to make
I'm layin' low, workin' hard
Why you so mad at me?
Why you so mad at me?
Why you so mad at me?
I'm layin' low, workin' hard
Why you so mad at me?
Why you so?
Why you so?
Why you so?
Why you so?
So mad
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
