Letras
I want to make a million
I want a big fat crib with a girl like Christina Milian
Who can cook chicken I can put sweet chilli on
In a R8 really gone
See my bitches be, bad and boujee
They like to boogie
Don-E, I roll thru my ends with my Bape hoodie
Haters like "how could he?"
They showin' me no love
I'm screamin' "oh Lord"
Backpack the Goyard, I go hard
Now screaming out "fuck life"
Just like my T-shirt man I off white
You don't trap, you don't bang so don't lie
I'm a big dog, your girls feels I won't bite
Stylish, I'm a fly kid
I can tell your girl like the shine upon my wrist
I'm in a brand new Merc and I'm doing mileage
In the car with my side ting
Cause mummy told me to stay clued up man
And they try say that my food don't bang
I've got white, I've got weed
Tryna get rid of the darks like the Ku Klux Klan
Yeah, you alright yeah?
How's your mum she good yeah?
You want food yeah?
Come to the hood yeah
Yeah, you alright yeah?
How's your mum she good yeah?
You want food yeah?
Come to the hood yeah
I'm making money off my Lycamobile
Momma didn't know but my papa knows now
I phone Bist, I phone Kab, yeah we got a trap yard just couple doors down
Where we make money money, make money money money
Make money money, make money money money
When we come thru, tell'em make room
Ace of Spades, Cristal and some Grey Goose
Balmain, D-Squared and some suede Loubs
Don-E stay blingin', I don't wear no fake jewels soz
La-di-da-di, we like the party
In the club Don-E I don't trouble nobody
But if they want some, they can get some
Long tings, big tings, short hand guns
Don-E got a hand ting, a mad ting
.45's got a mad kick, I'm active
If they want some, they can get some
Long tings, big tings, short hand guns