The Count (feat. Wiz Khalifa)
Gang, checks
More money than these lames get
More weed on the plane
More diamonds on the chain
La Música de Harry Fraud
Um, backwards joints get rolled up
Learned that in Amsterdam
Learned as a young man
Get cash fast as you can
But don't blow it too fast
Always save some for the road, make the smoke last
Never ask permission, we just blow past
Momma twisting up joints, I'm just scribbling in this notepad
Hoping that, the hotel got good room service that I could throw back
Put on a movie that's a throwback
Or just some beats, Harry Fraud just sent the whole pack
Maybe hit the pool swim a couple laps
Do my best when I'm relaxed
Back in the day, the way they used to send the message all facts
Beef without a scratch, used to doubt us
Now the game wouldn't be the same without us
Smoke the loudest
Uh, my weed good, my bitch bad
My joints burn slow all my cars go fast
Sweatpants, pockets is bulging with cash, hella stacks
Dipping that player shit they never put on the racks
Members only shit, private showroom out back
Fashion bloggers have to ask you, "Where you got it at?"
Spitter just a real nigga who can rap
Only deliver facts about my life but
It's tight 'cause my life is all that
Famous enough to get in there for free
But not so famous that people keep bothering me
While I'm chopping the tree
Smoking one this a selfie, a motherfucking personal son
It's enough gas in the world for all of you
So I ain't 'bout to pass my fuckin' joints over to you
We could get high, count to these high tunes
Baby I got hella player grooves in the Chevy as we cruise
I can't wait until New Orleans make the news
Completely legalize recreational that's like a dream come true
At the marina getting stoned to some Nina Simone
Shorty never heard them vibes until I put her on
Smoke two more sticks while I drove her home
Shorty pouting lookin' like something wrong
But she don't wanna be alone
Talkin' 'bout how well we get along
But my money really got her mind blown
She think I'm dumb, baby girl I'm not the one
Money machine count while I twiddle my thumbs
Money machine count while I lace up my Banned 1's
Money machine count you delivered that ransom
Money machine counting that stash for my grandson
Money machine copped the island to land on
Money machine my own, hustling feet I stand on
East side, parked the Medina at the Marina
They was amazed when they seen us
Millionaires
Two of us it was like 50 M's between us
Arguing who Rolex the cleanest
More money than these lames get
More weed on the plane
More diamonds on the chain
La Música de Harry Fraud
Um, backwards joints get rolled up
Learned that in Amsterdam
Learned as a young man
Get cash fast as you can
But don't blow it too fast
Always save some for the road, make the smoke last
Never ask permission, we just blow past
Momma twisting up joints, I'm just scribbling in this notepad
Hoping that, the hotel got good room service that I could throw back
Put on a movie that's a throwback
Or just some beats, Harry Fraud just sent the whole pack
Maybe hit the pool swim a couple laps
Do my best when I'm relaxed
Back in the day, the way they used to send the message all facts
Beef without a scratch, used to doubt us
Now the game wouldn't be the same without us
Smoke the loudest
Uh, my weed good, my bitch bad
My joints burn slow all my cars go fast
Sweatpants, pockets is bulging with cash, hella stacks
Dipping that player shit they never put on the racks
Members only shit, private showroom out back
Fashion bloggers have to ask you, "Where you got it at?"
Spitter just a real nigga who can rap
Only deliver facts about my life but
It's tight 'cause my life is all that
Famous enough to get in there for free
But not so famous that people keep bothering me
While I'm chopping the tree
Smoking one this a selfie, a motherfucking personal son
It's enough gas in the world for all of you
So I ain't 'bout to pass my fuckin' joints over to you
We could get high, count to these high tunes
Baby I got hella player grooves in the Chevy as we cruise
I can't wait until New Orleans make the news
Completely legalize recreational that's like a dream come true
At the marina getting stoned to some Nina Simone
Shorty never heard them vibes until I put her on
Smoke two more sticks while I drove her home
Shorty pouting lookin' like something wrong
But she don't wanna be alone
Talkin' 'bout how well we get along
But my money really got her mind blown
She think I'm dumb, baby girl I'm not the one
Money machine count while I twiddle my thumbs
Money machine count while I lace up my Banned 1's
Money machine count you delivered that ransom
Money machine counting that stash for my grandson
Money machine copped the island to land on
Money machine my own, hustling feet I stand on
East side, parked the Medina at the Marina
They was amazed when they seen us
Millionaires
Two of us it was like 50 M's between us
Arguing who Rolex the cleanest
Credits
Writer(s): Cameron Jibril Thomaz, Shante Franklin, Kevin Lee Woods
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.