[Rio Da Yung OG]
Money counter on the backseat
30 in the heat for the niggas tryna jack me
Money counter on the back seat
30 on the heat catch them niggas tryna jack me
Money counter on the backseat
In case them niggas tryna jack me
Tryna show me on the bread, money counter on the backseat
Money on your head the money counter in the back seat
[Rio Da Yung OG]
Ay, lil nigga, I don't act cheap
You want three hundred for a line, just let me grab a three
You ain't never heard 'bout a nigga whacking me
Nigga shot at me, and he gon' die, that day exac-
Nigga you gon' die that day exactly
High as hell, I'm in this bitch-
High as hell, bitch I'm in this bitch smoking cavities
Hit the blunt twice as lost gravity
I'm finna drop a Trackhawk in the morning, nigga
80 racks right now, I-
80 racks right now, I just blew a fucking hundred, nigga
You niggas ain't shit, we the one niggas
Hundred on me right now, cause my ice and shit
Your lil bitch text, said she liked the shit
Look, nigga, I'll fight the bitch
Put me in the - watch this, I'm finna write some shit
Aye, matter of fact, bitch I'm done writing
Me and Mike got two guns, bitch, we done fighting
Tryna load a hundred in the drum got my thumb tired
Extra four clips for the Glock got my gun tired
[Rio Da Yung OG]
Money counter on the backseat
30 in the heat for the niggas tryna jack me
Money counter on the back seat
30 on the heat catch them niggas tryna jack me
Money counter on the backseat
In case them niggas tryna jack me
Tryna show me on the bread, money counter on the backseat
Money on your head the money counter in the back seat
[RMC Mike]
Real money counter, but I ain't counting shit
Pistol on me, ready to go to war, we in round 6
Threw a jab and missed and caught his ass with a round kick
I got a hundred racks and twenty guns at my mom's crib
Hold on, bring it back, I'm in that old bag
Money on the floor, I hit the road with some bold tags
First nigga from Flint to hit a million off 4sho Mag'
Your diamonds fake, I got my shit from Gary, so I'm gon' brag
Money counter on the backseat
Young nigga, heart cold as hell, but I pack heat
Bad bitch approached, I touched her down, she got acne
You will never see me chasing hoes, I got fat feet
30 on the Glock, pop a opp to increase violence
Rio high as hell, hit the blunt, and start freestyling
Fully auto switch on that chop, bro, I'm finna swing it
Ghetto Boyz, when we say pape', it got a different meaning
Damn, I want some Actavis
Hit his ass with a single shot, he caught cancer quick
We on the road, bitch start sucking dick, on some random shit
Bitch, we living like stars, we ain't plan this shit
Back on my shit, I hit the booth with no hesitation
Finna pick a nickel up from Paul, left Kevin waiting
Money counter on the backseat, I'm finna count two hundred
Yeah you claim you up pape', but you ain't ever got no money
Me and Rio can't be stopped, we like Shaq and Kobe
Fuck around and went to Playground with that package on me
Nigga you ain't really hard, you had an active moment
Tomorrow when I wake up, I'm goin' to Gary to go cash a Rollie
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
