Nonsense

I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
Got her on her knees, word to god
I'm so damn blessed
She do it with ease, never pause
Til her last breath
She just want a future with the dog
But that's nonsense

I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check

You know me, the king of finessin
Months after Christmas
Still gettin' presents
Fuck on yo bitch
She gimme' that percentage
That shit a hunnid
Don't ever question
Fuck her so long
She gon gimme a pension
Pay me in cash
Don't pay me attention
This type of dick she 'gon want for collection
This is that one a kind
That's word to all rhymes
Got her acting like a mime
Losin her head just to play with the Don
I need her neck to recline
So all my stock could incline
Arch that back just run up in spine
Work it out with her
I ain't talkin gym time
Get done with her
Then it's next bitch in line
You know how I do
You know how it's done
Pimp by blood not relation
Not my fault yo bitch want somethin bigger
So I hit her with that Fee Fi Fo Fum
Get her right then she 'gon up them funds
Might fuck around and treat her to lunch
Only thing I love is my money
I ain't looking for no sugar pie honey bunch

I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
Got her on her knees, word to god
I'm so damn blessed
She do it with ease, never pause
Til her last breath
She just want a future with the dog
But that's nonsense

I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check
I'ma flex with yo bitch's income tax check



Credits
Writer(s): Carlos Luciano
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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