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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Money Man
Money Man
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tysen Jay Bolding
Tysen Jay Bolding
Songwriter
Jeff Daniel
Jeff Daniel
Songwriter
John Carrington
John Carrington
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jeffery Daniel
Jeffery Daniel
Producer
Trauma Tone
Trauma Tone
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
If Cardi B tried to drug me in a hotel room, I would've shot that bitch right in her face
I know how to trap, so I ain't gotta take, all these bags in the room, gotta clear out some space
All these hoes on my dick, they be begging to fuck, all these clientele callin' my phone for some loud
This shit gone when you get here, so buy this shit now, it's a drought, so the ticket, it cannot come down
Lil' bitch from Oakland in love with my sound, after this song I'ma go dick her down
I made more a juug than I made from a verse, I made more from a play than I made from a show
I made more from the swipes than I made from a stream, count a fifty for lunch everyday, that routine
I was swiping so much I had stop selling green, I woke up and walked up in Target with two different plastics
[Verse 2]
I hit for a TV, a MacBook and several gadgets
Yeah, I pulled to Publix and empty they ATM, pulled up at Kroger and empty they ATM
Pulled up at BOA and empty they ATM, pulled up to SunTrust and started a new account
Just for a business and merch, I'ma burn it out, you **** probably don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout
I'm finna fill up a PayPal with large amounts, finessin' at Barneys, I'm coppin' designer
My bitch, she was faithful, I brought her designer, she got plugs who do hair so she flew out to China
She make her own wigs and that shit look professional, I rather get bags then go buy me a sectional
She gone kill for my dick, she got fatal obsessions, her plastic went bad and that shit was depressing
These **** hate that I'm getting them racks, so its a no-brainer, I'm keeping a weapon
I just heard that Nipsey got shot while I'm making this song, I just pray that the **** get better
You gotta be smart when you servin' the trap, you gotta play chess, you cannot play checkers
Make sure you go get some sticks 'cause these **** be dirty, you know that these **** be jealous
Louboutins on my feet, they just dropped, yeah, the runners, I'm probably gon' drop my new tape near the summer
I feel like Bin Laden, I feel like Osama, my wrist got them carrots, I'm feelin' like Robin
[Verse 3]
If Cardi B tried to drug me in a hotel room, I would've shot that bitch right in her face
I know how to trap, so I ain't gotta take, all these bags in the room, gotta clear out some space
All these hoes on my dick, they be begging to fuck, all these clientele callin' my phone for some loud
This shit gone when you get here, so buy this shit now, it's a drought, so the ticket, it cannot come down
Lil' bitch from Oakland in love with my sound, after this song I'ma go dick her down
I made more a juug than I made from a verse, I made more from a play than I made from a show
I made more from the swipes than I made from a stream, count a fifty for lunch everyday, that routine
I was swiping so much I had stop selling green, I woke up and walked up in Target with two different plastics
[Verse 4]
I hit for a TV, a MacBook and several gadgets
Yeah, I pulled to Publix and empty they ATM, pulled up at Kroger and empty they ATM
Pulled up at BOA and empty they ATM
Written by: Jeff Daniel, John Jr., Tysen Jay Bolding
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