| Aye, BMF
|
| Free the whole mob till it’s nobody left
|
| Free Ramadan, that’s my dog to the death
|
| Ballin' so hard I got a tec and a ref
|
| My money made her wet, BMF
|
| Free the fuckin' mob till it’s nobody left
|
| Free Ramadan, that’s my dog to the death
|
| Ballin' so hard I got a tec and a ref
|
| My money made her wet
|
| Lambos, Bentleys
|
| And drop-top Porsches
|
| You couldn’t walk a mile off in my Air Forces
|
| All white snow business, bricks built a fortress
|
| Shop with the bosses in iced-out crosses
|
| Street money, deep money, goin' corporate
|
| Might as well movin' more work than a office
|
| A fortune 500 be a shipment of raw bricks
|
| Dope boys profit always outweigh the losses
|
| Aye, BMF
|
| Free the whole mob till it’s nobody left
|
| Free Ramadan, that’s my dog to the death
|
| Ballin' so hard I got a tec and a ref
|
| My money made her wet, BMF
|
| Free the fuckin' mob till it’s nobody left
|
| Free Ramadan, that’s my dog to the death
|
| Ballin' so hard I got a tec and a ref
|
| My money made her wet
|
| Got it for the low, droughtin' but we pourin'
|
| Wayne made it rain, mob came, it was stormin'
|
| Throw away the phones but the money keeps callin'
|
| Feds tappin' in, tryna lock us up for ballin'
|
| Shoulder bounce, ooh, bounce in a foreign
|
| From the Motor City but we known in the New Orleans
|
| From Cali to New York, St. Louis to Atlanta
|
| When we in ya town hoes swear they seen Santa
|
| 50 boy from the hole ED started up
|
| Shinin' like new money, heavy traffic, foreigns parked up
|
| Movin' like some brothers, family business, powder product
|
| Come and get ya teeth in somethin', baby, it’s the mob, what!
|
| Aye, BMF
|
| Free the whole mob till it’s nobody left
|
| Free Ramadan, that’s my dog to the death
|
| Ballin' so hard I got a tec and a ref
|
| My money made her wet, BMF
|
| Free the fuckin' mob till it’s nobody left
|
| Free Ramadan, that’s my dog to the death
|
| Ballin' so hard I got a tec and a ref
|
| My money made her wet |