Lyrics
Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', J's runnin' out it
Rich Homie baby! (DJ Drama!)
Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', Js runnin' out it
Twelve saw me comin', double back for me
I supply my neighbor cul-de-sac money
(Whatchu talm bout Quan?) Cul-de-sac money
Make so much that twelve double back for me
All I stack are dead men, run it back for me
Like a daddy, cul-de-sac money
Money comin' faster, bitches gettin' thicker
Watchin' over my back cause niggas get quicker
Got some bubblegum and hard dick for his sister
Cause food stamps is all she get from the system
She like fuck them niggas but they can't do this shit for her
What your issue? You make nathan off this comma
Blazin' off this ganja while standin' in this circle
Slangin' to your momma, while Stefan geeked on Urkel
And that cul-de-sac still fool me
That cul-de-sac never sleep
In that cul-de-sac we movin'
Ain't nothin' get past me
And I stop cross, call it short stop
You talk small, call it short guap
I eat beef like a pork chop
What you talkin' bout nigga? Cul-de-sac
Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', Js runnin' out it
Twelve saw me comin', double back for me
I supply my neighbor cul-de-sac money
My bitch she just be from London
She ain't pronouncin' nothin'
Yeah we can work on the stove top
Turn a little to somethin'
Met a little bitch, she lit me up
And found out it was the 3rd cousin
Met a little bitch, she let me up
And found out it was the 3rd cousin
Know a couple niggas in some fucked up situations
Gettin' 40%/60%, change your occupation
Got a couple riders with me, Harley Davidson
Coulda had three of 'em but turned to eight of 'em
Models bitches with a zero
Tapin' bricks to her stomach just to add a little weight on 'em