Lyrics Dolla Bills - Fly Union

Dolla Bills

Br-br-br-br-bread in the toaster
Burn it up
What they talking?
We ain’t heard enough
Bread in the toaster
Burn it up
What they talking?
We ain’t heard enough
Porsche coming, we gone drop the roof
Cut the wheels like a fucking coupe
You don’t fuck with me
Shit I don’t fuck with you
You 'bout lies, and I’m telling truth
I’m 'bout dirt and you follow rules
I break them shits and I pay the dues
You 'bout telling me all the shit that you finna do
You an interlude
Gold chains and them gold fronts
That’s for bitches in TV
Dumb shit what you seeing
What the fuck you believe in?
I’m 'bout making the motherfuckers with all the cheese believe in me
My homeboy in that mouse trap
Where they don’t get no sound at
It ain’t no hoes and no loud pack
I feel for him, we gone bounce back
Got whatever you need homie
Wide awake with these dreams homie
Count shit you can’t even figure
Her ass wider than a Cadillac
I’m smashin' that I’m like «Skrrt!»
Damn, body shop they like «Oh man!»
Shit leaking like a car wash
Damp damp, I got wamp wamp
I got food stamps and her legs cramp
We in the Hamptons, I’m Porsche Cayenne’in
Niggas still on that fly shit
Still on that I might die shit
Still on that I don’t give a fuck what it cost still might buy shit
Dolla bills, dolls bills
Five hundred, half a mil
God damn, I’m like shit nigga
Guess this what I get nigga
Hundred grand worth of charcoal with no barcode
I’m like this nigga
Jammed up, but I took the bail like a gift nigga
No bitch nigga
No snitch nigga
This crime pays
Cashing in on them rainy days
When I was growing up, ain’t have enough
That’s why I’m acting up
Like fat booty’s, like buying shit
Like selling shit
Shit I might have something that you trying to get
Shit it might be something that you might’ve missed
And I might have more if you adding this
I might be what they say I am
And I might’ve did what they say I did
Got a Midas touch, I ain’t blowing smoke
I’m blowing up
Y’all niggas tokens, I’m in her slot
Jackpot approaching, my couch cost yo crib nigga
My crib paid by yo rent nigga
Pull the john in a Mac truck
Ain’t shit you can tell me 'bout shit nigga
Unless you live this and don’t fear shit
Did shit and can’t see shit through these tints
I’m Breaking Bad at this campsite
Been cooking up for my whole life
Eating good I got a appetite
Shoulda bought a stack of these apple pies when the price is right
Before the, fuck the hecklers
For the record, furthermore ain’t much more to tell ya