Intro

(Sosa 808 made it)
Yeah (Glock)
Yeah, yeah, okay, okay (the fuck)

It ain't 'bout money, it ain't no discussion
Got the pocket rocket, no time for tussling
All this money got these bitches in love with me
Wanna fuck me, baby, but ain't no cuddling
Pillow talking Choppa chop ya like bucket shit
Let it burn, let it burn, yeah, that Usher shit
I'm balling hard, nigga, it ain't no sucker shit
Money talk, yours funny, Chris Tucker shit

Niggas hate me, but these bitches be loving it
Talking 'bout you balling, boy, you be fumbling
Pull up 30 deep, yeah, royal rumbling
Sexy tag on the back, had to nut on it
Lumberjack from the back when I'm cutting it
Got these big ass Choppas, we like some Russians
Cookie Backwood, I'm pouring up 'Tussin
Got my MC Hammer, you can not touch me (uh, uh)

Huh, you cannot touch me
Ain't no talking, ain't no discussion
Brrt, bap, bap

They do what I say, yeah, they call me Glock 'Bama
Like second plate, boy, you better not run up
I'm getting cake and ain't talking 'bout funnel
I get more head than some goddamn bundles
Finesse him quick, he a duck, call him Donald
Don't trust a soul, got that from my mama
Don't trust a soul, put that on my mama
Hell, nah (uh, uh)

Fuck these niggas hating, I'ma get this paper
I ain't saving bitches, I be saving paper
I cock, then shoot like McGrady
All my niggas G's, I ain't talking Mason
I just left from Portland balling like a Blazer
My niggas pocket watching, know they'll take it
Bullets coming hot just like the queso
Pull up foreigner's and you know we had to race 'em

Straight out it
Straight dropping, no flip
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

I'm a big dog, baby, you call me Clifford
Got a FN squeezing like lemons
Watch the niggas 'cause they turning like Timmy
I'm on this paper route, you know the business
I'm the GOAT, niggas don't call me Billy
I'm 'bout to buy it, nigga, it ain't no lending
Young rich nigga act like some gremlins
Got your bitch open wide like the dentist

Since a youngin', bitch, I been 'bout the loot
She ain't let me fuck, she blew me like soup
Tropicana call and I got the juice
I can hotbox in a coupe with no roof
Big Backwoods blow like a flute
Glock hard when I cock and I shoot
Keep the rocket, let it pop like balloons
Your rent's due, nigga, it's time to move (get out)

Out the mud, now I'm foreign in public
Sipping mud, blowing bud with my buddies
Flipping hoes with my boys like the Dudleys
Skinny nigga, but my pockets is chubby
Ain't 'bout the money, it ain't no discussion
Ain't talking money, ain't talking 'bout nothing
Don't give me something, I want all or nothing
Don't give me something, I want all or nothing



Credits
Writer(s): Brandon Parker, Markeyvius Cathey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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