Take It
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a whole lot of money
I blow a whole lot of paper
We fit each other right like a blazer
We argue, we fight, and we fuss
And we fuck and we muggin' each other
I eat it, I lick it
I treat it, I don't wanna leave it defeated
Come on and fuck on me
Run from me, book on me, yeah
Put luck on me, pull up on me
Feel ups on me, suck gifts on me
Fuck is you hatin' for?
I am so different, come have a tour
I caught him disturbin' the peace
And I left him extinct like a dinosaur
Drownin' in mud like a muh'fuckin' rhinoceros
I didn't think she was a freak but she kinda was
Yeah she was a freaky little bitch
I ain't get a chance to even eat that little bitch
Do you mind if I creep that little bitch
I'm home, wanna fuck a bitch, I'm straight outta the trenches
Do you mind if I need that little bitch?
Do you mind if I feed her to the clique?
If you mind I don't ever wanna be rich
And I'ma rip that money up with my clique like a pick, yeah
I make a whole lot of money
I blow a whole lot of paper
We fit each other right like a blazer
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
Racks on racks on racks on racks on racks on racks on racks on racks
Hit it from the back and I can't see nothin' like a cataract
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Standin' back, lookin' like I'm bammin' it
Smokin' packs [?]
I'm admirin', lookin' at your humble ass
Come in, baby, that's my mama, baby
My heart racin' and I'm so impatient
Come at you and let me speed race it
Cook that dope up, but no Easy Baker
I swear to God I [?]
I was too busy buyin' acres
That's my bitch, nigga that's my bitch
She can never come fuck you if she's my bitch
Old VVS' I go Mitch
And I swear you gon' get hit if it's a hit
Bitch I've been the boss of ever since
All my fuckin' cups dirty like a dick
I'm in beast mode like Marshawn Lynch
And if it don't make dollars then it don't make sense
But me? I swear...
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a whole lot of money
I blow a whole lot of paper
We fit each other right like a blazer
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a whole lot of money
I blow a whole lot of paper
We fit each other right like a blazer
We argue, we fight, and we fuss
And we fuck and we muggin' each other
I eat it, I lick it
I treat it, I don't wanna leave it defeated
Come on and fuck on me
Run from me, book on me, yeah
Put luck on me, pull up on me
Feel ups on me, suck gifts on me
Fuck is you hatin' for?
I am so different, come have a tour
I caught him disturbin' the peace
And I left him extinct like a dinosaur
Drownin' in mud like a muh'fuckin' rhinoceros
I didn't think she was a freak but she kinda was
Yeah she was a freaky little bitch
I ain't get a chance to even eat that little bitch
Do you mind if I creep that little bitch
I'm home, wanna fuck a bitch, I'm straight outta the trenches
Do you mind if I need that little bitch?
Do you mind if I feed her to the clique?
If you mind I don't ever wanna be rich
And I'ma rip that money up with my clique like a pick, yeah
I make a whole lot of money
I blow a whole lot of paper
We fit each other right like a blazer
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
Racks on racks on racks on racks on racks on racks on racks on racks
Hit it from the back and I can't see nothin' like a cataract
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Standin' back, lookin' like I'm bammin' it
Smokin' packs [?]
I'm admirin', lookin' at your humble ass
Come in, baby, that's my mama, baby
My heart racin' and I'm so impatient
Come at you and let me speed race it
Cook that dope up, but no Easy Baker
I swear to God I [?]
I was too busy buyin' acres
That's my bitch, nigga that's my bitch
She can never come fuck you if she's my bitch
Old VVS' I go Mitch
And I swear you gon' get hit if it's a hit
Bitch I've been the boss of ever since
All my fuckin' cups dirty like a dick
I'm in beast mode like Marshawn Lynch
And if it don't make dollars then it don't make sense
But me? I swear...
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a lot of money
I make a whole lot of money
I blow a whole lot of paper
We fit each other right like a blazer
Credits
Writer(s): Robert Marshall Scott, Malcolm Ian Grant, Paul Christopher Kean, Kaye Adelaide Woodward
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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