Letras
(Top$ide)
60 for the charm, but that ain't shit, though
Turn this shit up in the headphones a lil' bit more
I feel grimy as hell right now, you know?
Facts, nigga (yeah)
My motherfuckin' face balled up right now
Mm, ah, ah
Boy, I'll growl on one of you bitch-ass niggas
Yeah, nigga
60 for a motherfuckin' charm, that ain't shit, though (bitch)
Bitch, you better hope I don't go broke, I'm pullin' kick doors
Bitch, I lost more money than you had, I'm still rich, though (bitch)
Bitch, I'm sippin' on a 12 of Wock, this ain't no Tris, hoh
She hate the way I act, I just can't help it, I'm the shit (she hate that)
I left my show and came back to the trap to sell a brick
I left the O and went back to the K, I'm in the sticks (yeah)
I'll leave this rap shit alone and get back in the mix
You know what's goin' on
She gon' tell me pull up when you leave, don't leave your ho at home (uh-huh)
Made a hundred G's in like three days, I wasn't even gone that long
Come back home and re-up, jump back on that road (no cap)
Too many niggas that had they phone tapped, so I'm back on the beeper
Bad bitch called me up, I paint her face, now she like Mona Lisa
Came straight home from jail, it wasn't two weeks, I got back on the Kisha
I feel like Pookie, she keep callin' me and I just can't leave her (she keep callin')
Boy, get off my dick 'cause you ain't got no cheese (boy, get off my dick)
Made a half a mil' at home, I ain't have to leave, huh (half a mil')
Knocked her down off a Perc', now she harassin' me
Bitch, it ain't no limit to this pape', I feel like Master P
Yeah, Michael Corleone, sippin' good, twerkin' mobile phones
I had to cut it on and get the money, leave them hos alone (yeah)
I'm all through TSA with package on me, Boston George in Blow
I told the DEA that I'm retired, we just sellin' songs
I'll never, ever, ever love 'em like my dough (never, ever, ever, ever)
Dolce tee was like three hundred, but my Sprite was more
Your lil' bitch must be impatient 'cause she tryna go (you know that)