Money Room Music
(JV)
Don't pass me no joint
I'm tryna smoke the blunt
And you smoking on some mid
Tryna pass it off as runtz
And you better get a pound
And I am not doing fronts
Smoking pack it smell like cat piss
Shoutout Mrs. Lutz
Greenville shooters they don't miss
We look up to Annie Oakley
I pull out the Josh and Drake
Make a nigga Hokey Pokey
Pull up with that ski mask
Bitch I'm feeling like I'm Stokely
Saying it's a gas shortage
What the fuck I'm still smoking
JV Roger Rabbit way I stay around these bunnies
(It's snowing)
Grown niggas talking shit
Like bro please go get some money
You charging three for a zip
(What)
Boy you think that I'm a dummy
You think that Imma give you dick
When your house hella crumby
Not quitting my job till I get a milly
Need my money Widener
Not talking bout Millie
Need my money Widener
Not talking bout Maverick
Run up on me
And I start causing havoc
These hoes want to fuck
And my opps want to be me
My choppa my baby
Not talking bout beanie
She think that I'm famous
She think I'm on tv
You think that I'm wack
Say that when you see me
Becoming a star
I'm feeling like Patrick
Shooting my shot
I'm hitting a hat trick
Back in the pocket
I throw it Fitzpatrick
How do I do that
They say that it's magic
Twelve in the car and they
Found them a pilly
I'm sextin your bitch yeah
I'm feeling like Billie
These bars going Wonka
You feeling me Willy
I go hard on this shit
Are you hearing me silly
Don't pass me no joint
I'm tryna smoke the blunt
And you smoking on some mid
Tryna pass it off as runtz
And you better get a pound
And I am not doing fronts
Smoking pack it smell like cat piss
Shoutout Mrs. Lutz
Greenville shooters they don't miss
We look up to Annie Oakley
I pull out the Josh and Drake
Make a nigga Hokey Pokey
Pull up with that ski mask
Bitch I'm feeling like I'm Stokely
Saying it's a gas shortage
What the fuck I'm still smoking
JV Roger Rabbit way I stay around these bunnies
(It's snowing)
Grown niggas talking shit
Like bro please go get some money
You charging three for a zip
(What)
Boy you think that I'm a dummy
You think that Imma give you dick
When your house hella crumby
Not quitting my job till I get a milly
Need my money Widener
Not talking bout Millie
Need my money Widener
Not talking bout Maverick
Run up on me
And I start causing havoc
These hoes want to fuck
And my opps want to be me
My choppa my baby
Not talking bout beanie
She think that I'm famous
She think I'm on tv
You think that I'm wack
Say that when you see me
Becoming a star
I'm feeling like Patrick
Shooting my shot
I'm hitting a hat trick
Back in the pocket
I throw it Fitzpatrick
How do I do that
They say that it's magic
Twelve in the car and they
Found them a pilly
I'm sextin your bitch yeah
I'm feeling like Billie
These bars going Wonka
You feeling me Willy
I go hard on this shit
Are you hearing me silly
Credits
Writer(s): Desmond Thompson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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