[feat. Styles P]
[10 seconds instrumental]
[Chorus: Lloyd Bank$]
UH! Here's why I go in - back on the dough ROUTE!
More money to spend. - Watch how I show OUT!
Lamborghini gloves out. - That'll bring the hoes out!
Dollar signs brung in. - That's what I know 'bout!
Neck, wrist froze out. - Top five'll, no doubt!
Talk of what you got now. - Old money don't count!
Back what you kick out! - A clip one in your mouth!
It's somethin' flammable. - My hunger is unexplainable!
UH! - Cool people. - Knievel in my alto ego
Zero - tolerance we strapped wherever we go.
Wife repo - 'bout a mil' and a half key holes
Bite marks from you slugs on track some kilos.
Three loads - on my P's, Q's, and my G hoes,
G-G-G-whizz, my rise like the superheroes!
Four, five C-lo. - Look how good I reload!
Right back at you bitch-ass niggas abide the G-code.
Click-clack, deep hole! - The industry Debo.
We built these niggas ground up - now what they figured we fold!
Figure fours on the competition. - I yoke 'em!
Tell me you're jokin'. - My flow is like the levees open.
Foreign trips four to five zips heavy smokin'
Problem tips.45 clip Chevy smokin'. (uh!)
He put all he got into this I bet he make it,
Ain't gotta give me shit, I'm a take it!
Here's how I show out!
Even though I'm rappin' with niggas that move the blow out. (Salute!) - Let 'em pull the dough out!
You can make it rain but I rather make the snow out, (fffff!)
Run up in your crib with the big.fo'-fo' out. (Whattup!)
Here's how I show out!
Watch when I show up gettin' chips off the strip with the piff and the blow up! (uh!)
I'm a kill the block and then - leave when it slow up
Get your mind popped off - 'fore a sign that you throw up! (ch'eah!)
I just wanna lamp and see the weed plants grow up (hahaha!)
Niggas get that money. - Legal or illegally!
Bullets put these niggas - right where they need to be (right there!)
Bitches never leavin' me. - Porche pull up easily. (ERRRR!)
Back on the dough route. - Grams and the O's out. (ch'eah!)
Key and the pound wrapped. - Nigga where your pund at?
Top five in the booth. - Top five on the stoop!
You could fuck around and I - pop five in your Coupe!
Uh! - Gettin' money dancers and 25 chancers
My camp is - crazy as "The New Black Panthers".
Brush towards the canvas as I stroke my ego
Rap Picasso with my eyes closed a side that's too dope for people!
Spark cohibas while I snicker at the non believers
I break the heart in hoes. - I gave my heart to Sneakers!
I owe my life to Jesus. - Put my faith in God.
I got a thing for beaches! - Gettin' my favorite job.
Pain happens young scarred that's what made us hard
Money, drugs, guns ain't for soft shorty play your part.
I'm part of the lucky to leave the part
Livin' luxurious lady layer. - That's my art!
[Thanks to Big TaMá$ for these lyrics]
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