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I went from gettin’ a bag to hittin’ the dab You can run off with the cash but I wouldn’t do that Got hittas to blast, deliver the gas Get a line on your ass then we run through that Stocks when it’s rainin’, Forgi’s when the sun out Whatever nigga do, please don’t bring the gun out We be in the dugout; bitch probably dug out Wherever money at, tell her B-la in route Cookie, that’s my old bitch, I been had that Jello and Gellato four door is a pack Summertime dip season all at Durant's Gon’ take the whole navy just to trim these plants B-la got a plan though, AR commando Mac named “Fernando”, daddy play the banjo We gon’ take the plan slow and rock on out Catch the early harvest, we gon’ crop y’all out Uh, ay, ay, straight like that Uh, ay, ay, straight like that Uh, ay, ay, straight like that Uh, ay, ay, straight like that BIATCH! I’m on that fuel, that oil Tycoon vodka and ginger beer in my cup, Moscow Mule If I get caught with my tool, it’s gon’ be drastic Rather be with than without instead of laying up in a casket Letras de cancionesAs a capitalist, it’s a habit, it’s magic, I make it happen These bitches be on a player like a K-9 on a package Every time that I’m on the phone I’m talking Pig Latin (Pig Latin) "Baby girl" is when you rappin’ and you trizznappin’ I know a whole bunch of suckas that say they real but they some cowards Without the liquor, the powder, the crystal meth and the pills I grew up in the Hills on the other side of the gravel Where we keep our lips sealed and we don’t talk, tell or tattle I give back to my people as I should (as I should) I don’t fuck with niggas that’s no good (that’s no good) Do unto others as they do unto you And never turn your back on your crew (real spill…BIATCH!) Ay, ay, ay, straight like that Ay, ay, ay, straight like that Uh, ay, ay, straight like that Uh, ay, ay, straight like that Po-po handcuff us and put chains on us just like a tire Like a car in the snow in Mount Washington New Hampshire My bill straps on walrus, they hella fat and they blubbery Might go to Caesars, spend 20 racks on some Burberry The amount of bluebacks I’ve been making is stunning and groundbreaking I be triplin’ and doublin’ my moola, ain’t no mistakin’ Earl Stevens out’chere movin’, I’m proven, no hustlin’ backwards Hella rappers I thought was real need Emmys, they really actors Non-factor, non-actor, don’t matter Smoke fatter, bitch badder, zip shatter Stick louder, click-clack it for chit-chatter Brick stack, on the ground with six bangers Moonlight, baby, I’m the child of the sun You lookin’ like money, probably getting me some Yeah, they lookin’ like dummy, you ain’t getting me none Now I’m lookin’ back like, “Nigga, huh?” (Nigga, huh) Ay, ay, ay, straight like that Ay, ay, ay, straight like that Uh, ay, ay, straight like that Uh, ay, ay, straight like that Uh… From Letras Mania