True story
First time I started seeing some Money
Yeah
It's trap or die
My bank account got so crazy
Oh this shit gonna be crazy in a minute
My accountant said Dram you're gon' have to pay taxes on these millions
Louis V duffel, fuck a brief case
Thousand hundreds in my pockets
Yeah, the blue face
Fifty thousand grams in a suitcase
All black Prada gloves, you know them boots laced
Pearl white Rarri, call it tooth paste
Tom Ford on me, you know the suit place
Assets and the cash flow
We rerockin' when the cash low
Drop a whole, bring a half back
Whole kitchen fume
Where your mask at
Celine sweats and some Air Ones
ARs with the big drums
One time for the rich shooters
Got more chains than the jewelers
My account lit
FNs in the Rolls
Rich gangsta shit
One time for the rich shooters
Got more chains than the jewelers
My account lit
FNs in the Rolls
Rich gangsta shit
Break it down, buss it up
Digit scale, zip lock it
Vacuum seal it, double up
Ain't talkin 'bout prime when I tell 'em send a truck
Favorite prayer from a driver
See ya there, best of luck
Cubans shinin' on that black Amiri Tee, never tucked
Black Phantom with the stars for the star, that's what's up
I'm in a Sergio Tacchini 'cause it match the Lamborghini
Make 'em birds disappear like the great Houdini
Lost a mill in Mississippi
You could ask
Hit up Kuma Ted walk for the stunnas and the beanie
Black tech, cut the check
What's the goal? Buy a jet
Track hawk, or the Vette
Big chain, break your neck
One time for the rich shooters
Got more chains than the jewelers
My account lit
FNs in the Rolls
Rich gangsta shit
One time for the rich shooters
Got more chains than the jewelers
My account lit
FNs in the Rolls
Rich gangsta shit
You know these eight figure checks
I still feel like a intern
Haha
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