Lyrics Cash Stacka's - 50/50 Twin

Cash Stacka's

Yeah, 50/50 huh Mob Boss of the Nawf
I had to go to the South know I’m saying, reach out
Pick up O.G.
Keke, he holla’d back know I’m saying
We gon tip down, you know I’m saying
Dig these blues, ounce for ounce hey
I’m the funky fresh cash stacker, foreign car ass actor
Ben Frank bill packer, heater toting hater whacker
Goodfellas movie watcher, apple seal trunk popper
Crack a smile real proper, diamonds sit inside colossal
Bad yella hammer puller, ain’t no telling how I do her
She a freak I’ma treat her like one, call my niggas let them run through her
Mob boss 50 fe', Southside Don O.G.
Keke
Steal his rhymes go sell em at school, all them hoes would cheer for me
Then I decided to write my own, ever since then crawl some’ing on chrome
36 zone when I would get gone, drop them grams cut the microwave on
Lock up slow hell naw, true yola gon come back fast
Your shit ain’t mirror folds, if Mr. Davis didn’t give you the glass
Fuck fame money matter, squash the chatter I’m acting badder
Donadale blueberry dro, got 50 Twin higher than a ladder
Better yet giraffe pussy, I don’t hang out with no wussy
When it comes to the blow I move it slow, like salt and pepper I push it
I pull out drop top, sunny day rolling hard
I’m in the candy coated coupe, with a yellow broad
Southside Young Don, I’m a ghost writer
I’m in the trap getting paid, like and all-nighter
I’m in the school zone, tipping slow riding glass
Let up the trunk drop the bumper, and hit the gas
I’m known for showing out, acting bad hitting blocks
I’m on them rims flipping backwards, they won’t stop
H-Town on the map, do you hear a G
It’s 50/50 and Young Don, is you feeling me
I chase bread, on the highway and interstate
I’m trying to sell about a million, that’s plenty weight
Down in Texas, we swang on them elbows
And keep them shoppers and them boppers, on they tip-toes
I’m getting paid off these shows, and spitting flows
And when I’m on the Boulevard, I be tipping 4's