| Scales in the house, money on my couch
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| Sitting on work so I can tax in a drought
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| After ‘bout 8 I don’t serve no weight
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| I don’t serve niggas late unless I know where they stay
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| You see these streets get tricky, so I’m thinkin' ahead
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| Who in that white van, man I’m thinkin' the FED’s
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| The plug raise his number now he shrinkin' my bread
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| But it ain’t shit I can’t handle, P be fully prepared
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| I run the streets all day, no time to eat
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| After each sell another waiting for me
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| Cooking up crack in the kitchen, I gotta bounce back on these bitches
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| I used to weigh my dimes at a Tenth
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| When fiends complain I wasn’t hearing that shit
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| I’m having things and I’m parking new whips
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| Tryna get YBY rich, Detroit shit
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| Riding through my city looking like a millionaire
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| In the drop with a chick with Brazilian hair
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| She keep pressing buttons, I smacked her hand and told her stop it
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| She keep glancing at these stacks bulging out my pocket
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| Expensive watches in my bracelet, all chunked up
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| Last night I popped Don ‘til I was fucked up
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| Lounging in the big crib watching Netflix
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| Texting the jeweler ‘bout how I want my necklace
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| Told ‘em I don’t think these niggas got the message
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| They can’t see me on my worst with their best shit
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| In the ‘Vette with Quis driving reckless
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| This all stemmed from my past crack investments
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| Breath on me wrong, I’ma leave you breathless
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| I do it big, shit they say a life precious
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| At the lakeview crib having breakfast
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| Yeah, the view be blowing minds and every time I close my eyes
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter
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| I keep hearing the sound of my money counter |