Lyrics 40 - French Montana, Trey Songz, Fabolous

40

Money ain’t everything nigga it’s the only thing
I pop bottles like I got 40 rings
40 cars, 40 chains, 40 bitches
I got 40 names
A, K, K, K, K, K
Karma, drama, never been to college
Think about the feds homie, that’ll be the only thing
40 cars, 40 chains
Bust, bust it, what the business is?
Cars, cribs, couple businesses
Lean, Percs and them blacks
Been to hell and back
Then I cut off my rearview, cause I ain’t looking back
Now my bad bitch neck tatted, blue dye my bladder
Rip it off that rack boy, what it cost don’t matter
I say starin' down and I’m in it
Trap money I’m spending
PG for that dream team, you fucking right we winning
40, 40, another 40 boy
They ask me why I sell, feel that YSL?
Drunk in the front, your bitch in the back
I land in the front, and I start from the back
Hop out the jet, what city is this?
3 bitches in bed, I’m like who’s titty is this?
They fucked around and let a nigga like me get rich
I don’t know another nigga like me exist
These girls be 'bout that YOLO life
I ask you now if you a ho, no right?
But my dick’s still meeting with your throat tonight
Pimp game strong, cold as ice
Told em I’d show you right
You pay for pussy, you know the price
That’s hard to handle, this life a gamble
I want the dice, minute rice
To business life, I’m an enterprise
And I’ll drop whatever on whatever you ain’t finna buy
Live every moment like my last, like I’m finna die
Know I sing it now wonder will I sing it when I’m in the sky
Bust it, bust it, she let that 40 flame
My AKA is what shorty name
Just call my crew the Rolex and Audi gang
But we still got no time for these lames
I’m with my Mexican homies out of Juárez
They’ll hook you up, give you a chorus
We campaigning like we running for pres
Still watching out for JC and Torres
New York undercovers amongst the others
The family be couple hundred of us
Got a hundred brothers, AKA the Jacksons
Got a hundred sisters, AKA the Braxtons