(Ajaks, this a banger) I'm like: Nigga, is you cool? You don't make enough (frrt, phew) I only use the money counter 'cause of paper cuts It prolly take me like thirty days to make a buck I'ma drive the coupe today, lil' brodie take the truck Peter Piper packed a pack of pounds and he sealed 'em up I just cut the pint of pie and I'm pourin' up What the fuck wrong with my neck, this bitch glowin' up Front-end, back, back, back, and I'm showin' up I'll spin the front-ends, book all the back-ends, I'll put 'em up If you could put more paper in your pockets, they ain't full enough Gotta drop a lil' more in your soda, it ain't dark enough These lame ass niggas get it, pour out their heart to fuck All this fuckin' water on my neck, look like [?] or what? It sound like a lion fightin' every time I start the truck I don't think it'd be smart to start with us Big ass 10 milly on me, it'll park a bus (hmm) Big ass bankroll on me, I could get you touched Baby, I ain't with the roleplay, is we finna fuck? I'm tryna run up a million dollars (a million dollars) Dropped the eight, poured a four and a Fanta four in the crush (huh) I got [?] in my watch, why you get 'em crushed? (Huh) Out of butter in the pot, like, what you cookin' up? (Huh) I'm finna hit her raw brick with a brick of cut (huh) I can get you what you need, now tell me what you wanted This food right here go in the blender, not in the oven Made thirty-two days in a row, that's a triple double If you can get them to my door, I pay you for the troubles If you can get them to my door, I pay you for the travel I beat and walked out with a ticket, like a fuckin' raffle All these motherfuckin' bricks, I could build a castle I seen shit you thought wouldn't happen really happen All these niggas really jokes, I sit back and laugh at 'em You think you could do this shit like me, take a stab at it I'll put the switch on your ass like your granddaddy Bitch, I had a quarter brick back when we was wearin' ballies I went half on the strike, me and bro, we sharin' tallies I'm like: Nigga, is you cool? You don't make enough I only use the money counter 'cause of paper cuts It prolly take me like thirty days to make a buck I'ma drive the coupe today, lil' brodie take the truck Peter Piper packed a pack of pounds and he sealed 'em up I just cut the pint of pie and I'm pourin' up What the fuck wrong with my neck, this bitch glowin' up Front-end, back, back, back, and I'm showin' up (ayy, double) Wanna book me? Send a hunnid racks, it's goin' up (it's goin' up) While fifty in the front, another nick when I pull up (yeah) Rolls truck, bad bitches jump on dick when I pull up (when I pull up) Grab her face, tell her open up, spit [?] I get vicious when I'm on that Tris, sippin' out the cup Drink tequila on a miss, this lil' shit hit me, tryna fuck (tryna fuck) Usually I be chasin' the bag, won't even make time for a nut I told Chicken I'm gettin' this chicken, I count up a ticket, it give me a rush I make money in my sleep but I be barely catchin' Z's Niggas trollin' on the 'net but never gangster when we meet (pussy) I be solo like civilians, half a million last week Lil' 'cause want another B, I told him: Let that nigga breathe I was broke sellin' weed, barely did a stack of weed (uh) Now I'm blowin' six figures every time I pack a seat Till my nigga Smurk free, I told 'em: Give the 'Raq to me Put me anywhere with gangsters, bet you I adapt with ease If they got them bills for the low, I'm bringin' back some P's God forbid this rap shit get slow, I'm in the trap [?] Got so many tennis chains, I need a racket, please Got so many bracelets, they can't even wrap my sleeve Got so many bracelets, they can't even fit my sleeve (uh) Red band on [?], yeah, that's how I'm bleedin' Feel like Allen Iverson, my earrings bling (bling) Ghost my fine shit 'cause when she fiend she a demon Every line in a nigga rhymes, I really seen it 79 and she still mine and I mean it Every angle of my lifestyle I was dreamin' Winnin' with my team, think you fuckin' with us, I'm like I'm like: Nigga, is you cool? You don't make enough (swerv) I only use the money counter 'cause of paper cuts It prolly take me like thirty days to make a buck I'ma drive the coupe today, lil' brodie take the truck Peter Piper packed a pack of pounds and he sealed 'em up I just cut the pint of pie and I'm pourin' up What the fuck wrong with my neck, this bitch glowin' up Front-end, back, back, back, and I'm showin' up (brrt)