| Thumbin' through so much money, thumbin' through so much money, thumbin'
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| through so much money, that I need three hands to count it
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| Thumbin' through so much money, so, s-so much money, thumbin' through so much
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| money that I need three hands to count it
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| I woke up in a Bugatti, and parked it by my Ferrari
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| Took my Rolex and chopped it and stuffed it in my Buggari
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| I got your bitch on a Molly, she ride me like a Ducati
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| If giving head was a college, she would be summa cum laude
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| She treat my dick like a pistol, I treat her face like a target
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| I told em «Bandz A Make Her Dance,» I turned my head, that shit charted
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| Black matte Aston Martin, my hood gives Koopsta apartments
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| Lambo didn’t come with no key, I push a button to start it
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| Say Juicy J must know magic, all these invisible sets
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| I put kush in my lungs and leather seats in my jet
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| I got a gold-plated toilet, my nigga, I’m rich as shit
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| And I would carry a wallet but all my money won’t fit
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| I drop the bag in Miami, and Ferragamo’d my bitch
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| A couple of bands for her heels, a couple more for her tits
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| Bitch I got money and shooters don’t make me pay for the hit
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| They wipe your ass off the planet like you ain’t never exist
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| I’m countin' so much money, dollar signs all I see
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| I might go buy me an island and fly your bitch to my D
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| I got that old school Chevy with crocodile on my seat
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| And I still run with them wolves, yeah bitch I’m a beast
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| I spent the rack 'fore I knew it, and that was just on my feet
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| This bitch is stupid as fuck but on that Molly she geek
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| She like «It's Christmas in May», I’m 'bout to roll up a wreath
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| And I’m so cold on these hoes but I still carry that heat |