I got racks up in my pocket, racks up in my pocket
I got thots all in my phone calling me, bitch, stop it
Fourteen hundred for this belt, this aint no damn Versace
And Im smoking all this dope, my hobbys getting money
I count money like Im poor, you know I already done it
Twenties, fifties, hundreds, bitch Im stunting
Fifties, hundreds, twenties, oh my goodness
I need my money machine to count this shit for me
Ill be flexin on niggas, just coolin, flexin
I got my niggas, my money, my toolie
I got my car, my house and my jewelry
Yes, flexin on niggas, I aint worried
Smoking tooka to the head
Come through shoot ya then youre dead
Im getting money fuck the feds
Im Glo Gang, what is this?
Thats my shit, you little bitch
Lets get rich you little bitch
Get off my dick you little bitch
And go get you a brick
Smoking TuTu thats my opps
So much damn TuTu on my car
Counting rolls like a boss then
You know that I know
Money machine go beep beep
Hop in my car shooting shit
Du-du du-du du-du beep beep
All these fuck boys wanna be me
His bitch let me fuck her cause I got racks
So I hit it like bang bang, skeet, skeet
Tell that on my phone yeah
Money tatted on my mind yeah
Thirty tatted on my gun yeah
Its time to have fun yeah
His bitch say she wanna fuck me
She really wanna fuck my money
Thought that I aint know
She thought that I was a dummy
Told her save that shit
Baby you on that lame ass shit
I dont play that shit