Money grow on trees bitch I'm rooted up
They hating low key so I'm toolied up
On Mercy Drive posted in the cut
Trying to fuck this bitch I met inside of Lux
Boss up, ooh, I got my cash up
Finesse a nigga, Uncle Sam, I'll tax ya
No grams, BOA faster
Still spending money made from last year
Fuck a runner I done ran it up
Fuck that promoter tell him prices done went up
At every show got my sniper in the cut
At every show we got sticks in the trunk
Hit her from all sides like we playing tonk
Baby I'm the shit I can't fake the funk
This ain't what you want, this ain't what you want
My Draco, my Draco, my Draco, fuck a hand gun
Got pes, got pes, got pesos I can get you slumped
For some petty shit start war like Donald Trump
No secret service I'm protected by this pump
Fuck secret service got more faith in my gun
Chosen one, came up out the slum
[?] stick with a drum
In the club, I ain't come to have no fun
Ho, you ugly, I'm not 'bout to throw no ones
Cougar bitch, I'm the same age as her son
She trying to kidnap me, Hawaii for a month
Whole month, you eating dick up like it's lunch
Don't use hands, she control it with her tongue
She control it with her mouth
While I fuck the ho, Lil' J break in her house
Running routes, while you sit on the couch
Running routes, racked up, we spazzing out
She control it with her mouth
While I fuck the ho, Lil' J break in her house
Running routes, while you sit on the couch
Running routes, racked up, we spazzing out
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
