| Yo, yo, yo, yo
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| Ayy, yo
|
| Ayy, yo
|
| That’s the money calling me, ayy, yo
|
| The haters onto me, ayy, yo
|
| But I’ll bet the drum go off, ayy, yo
|
| I know them boy dem soft, ay, yo
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| I’m so fly like Wayne Carter
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| Tell dem boy dere I’m their farda
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| Your boy clipping your baby mudda
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| That one’s a say nada, we got the gully Gaza
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| I tell them man park up
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| Don’t stall, the ting will spark up
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| Yo, I’ve got the .38 tucked
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| Don’t move or the ting will bust yeah, yeah
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| 'Cause ayy, they don’t wanna play no games
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| Rolling with the .38, them niggas won’t come my way
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| Ayy, they don’t wanna play no games
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| Rolling with the .38, them niggas won’t come my way
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| That’s the money calling me, ayy, yo
|
| The haters onto me, ayy, yo
|
| But I’ll bet the drum go off, ayy, yo
|
| I know them boy dem soft, ay, yo
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| Chippy, yo, got the weed and blem
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| Judge, I’ve got me, I don’t need no leng
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| Get real money, that’s G-R-M
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| Redline true spitters from I dislike them
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| All fake friends fi get bun
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| See you flex online and wan' come
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| If they don’t support when you’re grinding
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| Don’t ever let 'em 'round when you shining
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| Red leather seat, but mi gone again
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| Get pussy automatic, girl not stall again
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| See, my life, might book a flight last night
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| By morn, money call so mi gone again, see
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| Too much sauce for dem
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| Just a pree, dem a pree, me nuh know wamp to dem
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| Chippy on a verse, too cold like (brr)
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| But (brr), that’s the money call again, see
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| That’s the money calling me, ayy, yo
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| The haters onto me, ayy, yo
|
| But I’ll bet the drum go off, ayy, yo
|
| I know them boy dem soft, ay, yo
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| Like oh wow
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| Man I’m smoking this green, it’s so loud
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| And the damn packs are sold out
|
| How you, running these streets with no clout? |
| Yo
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| Like oh my
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| Man, it’s Kojo Funds from the East side
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| Two loaded waps when we ride
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| Man, I’m high in the sky, I’m so fly like a kite
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| My heart’s cold, it’s blatant
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| Grew up in these streets, these pavements
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| I’m still running from Satan
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| But these boys still act the same
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| It’s blatant
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| Grew up in these streets, these pavements
|
| I’m still running from Satan
|
| But these boys still act the same
|
| That’s the money calling me, ayy, yo
|
| The haters onto me, ayy, yo
|
| But I’ll bet the drum go off, ayy, yo
|
| I know them boy dem soft, ay, yo
|
| Ayy, yo
|
| Ayy, yo
|
| Ayy, yo
|
| Ayy, yo |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Calling , by - GRM Daily. Song from the album Let's Work (Vol.1), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп