Lyrics Dennis Rodman - Ta'East, Skeme

Dennis Rodman

It’s like my money got a mind of its own, a grind of its own
I’m the man of the year turning dimes into gold
You busters of the year turning diamonds to stone
I’m the only nigga known turning dime chicks to hoes
Turn 'em out, turn 'em out, I’ma die flipping coins
But I’ll drop it all tomorrow taking high risks to blow
It’s like Independence Day how I firework the flow
My former girls in a trans;
this that Shia Lebouf flow
Oh my God his closet cluttered, got more Jordans than Jordan
I’ll cut you 'bout my profit, I hustle like Rodman
Ralph Lauren sure to fit custom how I like it
All them other boys stay dusty like Hoffman
Stop it, fly shit, I’m cleaner than a seersucker
Ain’t a nan-nother got a better feel for this
Rather have my back on the wall than caught slipping from behind
I’m lifting to the sky when I’m picking up the grind
Get it from the bottom, take it to the top
Cover all bases, think of something fly
Watch these niggas follow, demand and supply
Re up on ya product, make it multiply
Now my money making money (making my money make money) 3x
Watching my money make money (watching my money make money)
VERSE II- Ta’East:
Trying to buy some property, it’s all about location
In the hills it ought to be, it’s all about no neighbors
Independent artist but it’s all about donations
I write this from the heart in me, it’s all about notation
Got a tropic chick massaging me look like she from Barbados
Niggas half-ass taking shots at me, they warned y’all about no chasers
You’re a steamboat to the yacht in me, don’t care about no anchor
I guess that’s just the boss in me, my flair is just so tailored
So don’t bump heads with no stranger, never get comfortable with no favors
I’d rather make way and make change daily and have to (two) check (s) in like
probation
They understanding me like ovations, you’re forgettable like cold cases
She’s said «name the time and place» because I’m edible like arrangements
That’s a hell of a proposition I might have to make a trip for
So now she’s licking on the YKK on my zipper, open up
Some things are caught and some things are taught
Some things are hot and some things are not
VERSE III- Skeme:
Look, trap check, I got money on me
Tell a hoe I’m paid, track star run it for me
Polo logos on everything I’m wearing and I hope you talking dollars,
that’s the only thing I’m hearing
I ain’t worried, bitch I’m getting paid
Handling biz over here now nigga find somewhere to play
Lil' nigga, you’s a lil' nigga, now tell ya bitch to bust is open for a real
nigga
Homies call me five like 4 plus 1, and rappers pussy but I ain’t trying touch
none
Tell a bad bitch like «come here» cuz I’m trying fuck something
If she get inside this car I tell that bitch don’t touch nothing
All star Krooked, balling like a vet
She wanna lay up with me, I’ma hit it we can bet
Benz fast through the lane and got a mean first step
Swoosh league swag, all the boy see is checks