| Was the money good?
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| Was em bitches bad? |
| Was they fuckin' good?
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| Did your hood show you love? |
| Did the hoes say you fly?
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| If your friends say you’re loyal, throw your rollies in the sky
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| For the trillest, for the trillest
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| As the champagne pours and the campaign roars
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| And the lights shine bright every night they applaud for the trillest
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| See my momma cry too many tears
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| And we been broke like too many years
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| It ain’t too many kids, a couple homies, there ain’t too many there
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| And they all gotta eat, they got too many kids
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| To many kids with no fathers, doing too many bids
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| Too many bids, judge gave 'em kids too many years
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| As soon as you get that money, that’s as soon they appear
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| Sue me, you owe something, they assuming you’ll share
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| And yeah, I’ve been losin' touch with my family, it ain’t the same
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| I should’ve gave my sister some money, but I made it rain
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| I should’ve hit the crib with my son and played a game
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| But instead I ended up at the jeweller to make a chain
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| It’s a sad saying when you make money it make you change
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| Like four quarters, the fourth quarter, I make a lane
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| Shit, I had to walk forward they talkin' 'bout takin' trains
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| And takin' planes, I put the work in and made the name
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| But the question is
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| Was the money good?
|
| Was them bitches bad? |
| Was they fuckin' good?
|
| Did your hood show you love? |
| Did the hoes say you fly?
|
| If your friends say you’re loyal, throw your rollies in the sky
|
| For the trillest, for the trillest
|
| As the champagne pours and the campaign roars
|
| And the lights shine bright every night they applaud for the trillest
|
| I never wanted to be like Mike, I wanted to be like Mitch
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| Now all the lil niggas wanna be like this
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| I wear my chain in any city, let you see my shit
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| Cause I earned that, it’s on me, I’mma keep my shit
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| I got blood on my money, ether in my soul
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| Do you know the feeling durin' Easter with no clothes?
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| Now it’s stars in the ceiling, bringing ether out the rose
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| With the curtains on the windows, I’m just peekin' at my ghost
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| Money made me iller, already was realer
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| Young kings killin' young kings over skrilla
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| That’s why I ride around mac on me like I was Miller
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| Or Reggie when I shoot for that three
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| They drop fetty, that’s good money
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| Come to my city, we talk heavy and die young
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| When we get some paper, we cop Prezis and ride rim
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| 20 inch rims for the dope boy
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| Sellin' that coke boy, trappin' on your note boy
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| Got that buy it all money, fuck I need a note for?!
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| In them school hallways, «fuck I need a note for!?»
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| We ain’t wanna go to class, we was sellin' coke raw
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| The principal was coppin' too, hit him with a snowball
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| Was the money good?
|
| Was them bitches bad? |
| Was they fuckin' good?
|
| Did your hood show you love? |
| Did the hoes say you fly?
|
| If your friends say you’re loyal, throw your rollies in the sky
|
| For the trillest, for the trillest
|
| As the champagne pours and the campaign roars
|
| And the lights shine bright every night they applaud for the trillest
|
| Lookin' for the intro
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| I was at the dealer lookin' for another Benzo
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| Matching kicks with my Kenzo, young nigga
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| Heart of a lion, hungry as hippo
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| When I was on my last, nobody ain’t tell me shit though
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| Flow slicker than Crisco, niggas talkin', I get low
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| Do my thing, they jump back, know how that shit go
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| And they say I’m arrogant
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| I’m still eatin' steak with the asparagus
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| When I get that money like I married it
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| 1 milly, 2 milly, 3 milly, buried it
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| Since they say I’m underground, I run that bitch like Harriet
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| Rolls Royce pushin' real slow like a chariot
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| Pull up on them niggas that doubted me, shit embarrassin'
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| I’mma real nigga with money, never cherish it
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| You a fake niggas with money, it’s no comparison
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| Told me that I couldn’t get signed when I was rappin' it
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| And told me I couldn’t do songs when I was battlin'
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| They told me that I couldn’t be trapper, I started trapping' it
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| Never listen to 'em, oh well, shit is immaculate
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| I’mma just go sit up in this Bach again
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| Smoke the weed and laugh at them
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| Make a couple million by accident
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| Couple niggas dropped on Twitter, they say they back again
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| Couple months later on Twitter they say us laxative
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| Shitted on 'em, Nicki voice, did it on 'em Benjamins
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| Plently of 'em Benjamins, semi on him and he on a
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| Whole 'nother level from before now
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| Tell my niggas when I see a hundred mil its going down
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| When I made my first mil, I was like «it's on now»
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| Then I made my second mil, money on the floor now
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| Then I made my third mil, I’m like «I need more now?»
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| I got in my zone and that money started pourin' down
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| Every time I hit the booth, microphone torn down
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| We couldn’t get a pair of Pumas, we up in the store now, bitches! |