Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Money Fein, artist - kyynggDate of issue: 12.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Money Fein |
| All this pain got me going against myself |
| I don’t do this for you niggas, bitch, I do it for the wealth |
| Why would I trust you niggas? |
| Shit, I barely trust the ceilin' |
| Rather fuck on your hoe and put that bitch all in her feelin’s, yeah |
| Spinning and sipping, we be smelling the piff |
| Pull up, hop out, and left his brains on the curb |
| Bet he gon' understand, make you run on your pad |
| For all that stunting that you doing, gon' make a nigga mad |
| I’m money fiending every day |
| It was me and Prynce in these streets, tryna find our way |
| The closer that I get, the more these niggas turning fake |
| It ain’t no pressure with that extra, keep my weapon |
| I’m on this pussy like my nickname Dr. Jekyll |
| I put the bitch made her put on my schedule |
| I couldn’t save it, killed that pussy like a devil |
| But we can lay up, you gotta pay me for that |
| Bitch, I ain’t stupid, thinks I’ll lose it, I’ma up this toolie |
| Shoot you like a movie, all my lil niggas young and they ruthless |
| Dipping in the mazi, now they running and ducking the shooters |
| Ain’t no more talking, bitch, you domeless, end of confusion |
| All this pain got me going against myself |
| I don’t do this for you niggas, bitch, I do it for the wealth |
| Why would I trust you niggas? |
| Shit, I barely trust the ceilin' |
| Rather fuck on your hoe and put that bitch all in her feelin’s, yeah |
| Spinning and sipping, we be smelling the piff |
| Pull up, hop out, and left his brains on the curb |
| Bet he gon' understand, make you run on your pad |
| For all that stunting that you doing, gon' make a nigga mad |
| I can’t be fucking with you niggas, y’all ain’t feeling my pain |
| I’m fresh out them slums, don’t make me shoot off your brain, yeah |
| I do this shit for New Orleans, I’m tryna fuck on yo' lil bitty bitch |
| Put the dick all in her organs, then pass that lil bitch to my bro |
| Oh, coach |
| Yeah, can’t check my temp, bitch, I’m hotter than stoves |
| Oh, make your lil bitch go wherever I go |
| Yeah, make that hoe dope me up |
| In the coupe with no roof |
| I can’t fuck with you broke niggas, you think that leachin' shit cool? |
| I’m a motherfucking giant, like, «Who is these little dudes?» |
| We gon' pull up, wipe that shit out then get right back to the move |
| All this pain got me going against myself |
| I don’t do this for you niggas, bitch, I do it for the wealth |
| Why would I trust you niggas? |
| Shit, I barely trust the ceilin' |
| Rather fuck on your hoe and put that bitch all in her feelin’s, yeah |
| Spinning and sipping, we be smelling the piff |
| Pull up, hop out, and left his brains on the curb |
| Bet he gon' understand, make you run on your pad |
| For all that stunting that you doing, gon' make a nigga mad |