Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Diamanté Warren
Songwriter
Lyrics
(Coach me, Joey)
Yeah
(Damn, E, this a classic)
Easy money
Ayy
On the twenty-seventh floor, feet up, I'm just loungin'
All this money in the room, I can't move, we gotta count it
See I drip in Alexander McQueen, I need a fountain (Yeah)
Thirty in jewels, we really get it out the mountains
Broke down a bale, I bought a P, ain't even have a beam
Compress the shit, slide to the hood, drop off a bag and leave
Yeah, I smoke rapper weed, that shit that trappers need
Ayy, we the reason **** say that they got Cali weed
Yeah, pull the handle on the box, look like a slot machine
Spent so much cheese inside of Saks, they say I had to leave
The wrist a half a key, got blues like Master P
Land on my property, you gettin' taxed like Monopoly
**** said they on my head, but they ain't stoppin' me
We gon' slide with them sticks like a hockey team
I don't want your bitch, boy, I"m out her league
I ain't beefin' with no **** that ain't got no cheese
Yeah, let the chopper sing like you SOB
Make you walk on shells like you at the beach
If I see 12, I get low like I'm Japanese
Big bullets from the Drac' hit you back to back like Meek
Ayy, Colin Kaepernick, I shoot the Drac' while I'm on one knee
Bitch, you a rat, you ain't fuckin' with my little niece
I'll put three hundred on your head, but I ain't Lil Reese
Blowin' money fast every day, I ain't Lil Meech
Yeah, big A got me snorin'
Yeah, hard to fuck in the morning
Yeah, I'm in love with blues like I'm Corbin
Kits, you can't afford them, bitches, yeah, they foreign
All my hoes, I spoil 'em, countries, I explore 'em
Yeah, just fronted my junkie, he'll be back in the morning
Got 'em for the nineteen, came back for the Jordan
Bitch, I'm so important, 'bows get imported
Alex McQueen scarf around my head like I'm Taliban
Yeah, we gon' slide, hop out on 'em, pull around again
I fuck around and take a hit 'fore I be down again
All my **** 'bout they pape', nobody 'round me playin'
Yeah, the first shot gon' knock him off, no need for ambulance
All this ice around the clique look like an avalanche
Hundred choppers in the crib, feel like it's Pakistan
Put this pussy on your ****, he'll be back again
Stupid bitch, what the fuck you sayin'?
Bitch, fuck smackin' you, I'll smack your man
Man, fuck mappin' out, we ain't got a plan
We throw money in them clubs, we ain't gotta dance
I think it's water in y'all veins, don't think you bitches bleed
And how the fuck you bitches loyal but be switchin' teams?
Your **** wishin' he can fuck, I got him chasin' dreams
I think these **** only talk because the shit is free
I dare you name another bitch who really sit with me
You step to four, we knock you low and you get hit with three
I have your daddy give me dome while I smoke this tree
Might let your mama eat my ass, bitch, mil' on me
Written by: Diamanté Warren
