Re: Everyone drop a verse
Ehhh. Hear we goo!
Step back haters, time to let the trunk pop
Fame and money, is what i fuckin got
Ha wait a minute, theres something i forgot
Got your girl on my dick, and she dont wanna stop
I dont risk checks bouncin, like they on a trampoline
Keep rectangles stable, like im on a balance beam
Always swagged out, yeah im lookin clean
Faded green is the only pigment, in my color scheme
Aint going to hell, im to hot for the devil
Where Im from, the mile high club is ground level
Time is money, the dollas are seconds
Money is dinner, and Im havin seconds!
Cake for dessert, get paid so much it hurt
If ballin was a religion, well fuck Id convert
A bunch of dudes fake, like they made of plastic
My money stretchin so long, like it is elastic
And im all about my numbers, like im a mathmatic
Beatin down the block, its about to be tragic
One mil, two mil, three mil, four
Dead presidents stacked, from ceiling to floor
We cant even see, out the dome no more
And your girls ass, is knockin at the door
You dont deserve to give yourself the title of a lyricist
You need to get the fuck out and attain vital experience
Ya Dig?
Ehhh. Hear we goo!
Step back haters, time to let the trunk pop
Fame and money, is what i fuckin got
Ha wait a minute, theres something i forgot
Got your girl on my dick, and she dont wanna stop
I dont risk checks bouncin, like they on a trampoline
Keep rectangles stable, like im on a balance beam
Always swagged out, yeah im lookin clean
Faded green is the only pigment, in my color scheme
Aint going to hell, im to hot for the devil
Where Im from, the mile high club is ground level
Time is money, the dollas are seconds
Money is dinner, and Im havin seconds!
Cake for dessert, get paid so much it hurt
If ballin was a religion, well fuck Id convert
A bunch of dudes fake, like they made of plastic
My money stretchin so long, like it is elastic
And im all about my numbers, like im a mathmatic
Beatin down the block, its about to be tragic
One mil, two mil, three mil, four
Dead presidents stacked, from ceiling to floor
We cant even see, out the dome no more
And your girls ass, is knockin at the door
You dont deserve to give yourself the title of a lyricist
You need to get the fuck out and attain vital experience
Ya Dig?
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