Twenty-Fives
(Twenty Five lighters on my dresser
And you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir)
Bitch you was right if you guessed it, you know I'ma check it, you gotta respect it
Kickin' this shit I'm like Tekken, this salad I'm dressing I gotta be special
This a new level I'm better just call you a wrecker you know I be wreckin'
I eat these rappers for breakfast like who gone be next cause I'm goin for seconds
Boy I'm a fool, I'm a problem
Know what to do with these dollars
I got no worries when it come to gettin' this money, 'Hakuna Matata'
I gotta mission at best
I'm tryna get to the check
I just might fuck on my ex
I just might hit Montralette
You know I'm bussin' it's wet (Uhh)
Up that tool (Up It)
Buck that tool (Buck It)
Fuck that do? (Nothin')
What that do? (Ugh Nothin')
Fuck that tool (Fuck It)
Get that too, That don't do (Nothin')
All of this money we touchin'
All of these bitches we bussin'
All of these guns and they Russian
That is not up for discussion
(Twenty-five lighters on my dresser
And you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir)
Twenty-five lighters on my dresser
And you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir)
Make it from the bottom to top like
You might get burnt from the spotlight
Stopped get swerved from cop lights
I know ya lil Pippen, you not Mike
I'm feelin' like Bishop, Pac right?
I put her in Christians, this not Christ
Ain't cuffin that bitch, she thot life
(Uh Yeah)
Hold up this feelin' euphoric
They let a Spook take a seat by the door, they tried to make me a duck
Mixing Jamel with that Christian Dior, OK I like a God
You see the stars when you hopped in the car
You just got hit in the car, ON GOD
Up that tool (Up It)
Buck that tool (Buck It)
Fuck that do? (Nothin')
What that do? (Ugh Nothin')
Fuck that tool (Fuck It)
Get that too, That don't do (Nothin')
All of this money we touchin'
All of these bitches we bussin'
All of these guns and they Russian
That is not up for discussion
(Twenty-five lighters on my dresser, and you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir
And you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir)
Bitch you was right if you guessed it, you know I'ma check it, you gotta respect it
Kickin' this shit I'm like Tekken, this salad I'm dressing I gotta be special
This a new level I'm better just call you a wrecker you know I be wreckin'
I eat these rappers for breakfast like who gone be next cause I'm goin for seconds
Boy I'm a fool, I'm a problem
Know what to do with these dollars
I got no worries when it come to gettin' this money, 'Hakuna Matata'
I gotta mission at best
I'm tryna get to the check
I just might fuck on my ex
I just might hit Montralette
You know I'm bussin' it's wet (Uhh)
Up that tool (Up It)
Buck that tool (Buck It)
Fuck that do? (Nothin')
What that do? (Ugh Nothin')
Fuck that tool (Fuck It)
Get that too, That don't do (Nothin')
All of this money we touchin'
All of these bitches we bussin'
All of these guns and they Russian
That is not up for discussion
(Twenty-five lighters on my dresser
And you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir)
Twenty-five lighters on my dresser
And you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir)
Make it from the bottom to top like
You might get burnt from the spotlight
Stopped get swerved from cop lights
I know ya lil Pippen, you not Mike
I'm feelin' like Bishop, Pac right?
I put her in Christians, this not Christ
Ain't cuffin that bitch, she thot life
(Uh Yeah)
Hold up this feelin' euphoric
They let a Spook take a seat by the door, they tried to make me a duck
Mixing Jamel with that Christian Dior, OK I like a God
You see the stars when you hopped in the car
You just got hit in the car, ON GOD
Up that tool (Up It)
Buck that tool (Buck It)
Fuck that do? (Nothin')
What that do? (Ugh Nothin')
Fuck that tool (Fuck It)
Get that too, That don't do (Nothin')
All of this money we touchin'
All of these bitches we bussin'
All of these guns and they Russian
That is not up for discussion
(Twenty-five lighters on my dresser, and you know I gotta keep the bag full of pressure, yes sir
Credits
Writer(s): Patrick Thomas Brooks, Michael Lamond Scott
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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