Music Video

MemoTheMafioso - "DoughBoy" | (shot by @archieerskine)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
MemoTheMafioso
MemoTheMafioso
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
MemoTheMafioso
MemoTheMafioso
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Tri$ten
Tri$ten
Producer

Lyrics

(Tri$ten?) My heart cold, mind gone, with a mouth full of gold I'm a doughboy, gettin' money all that I know Self-made, bread-winner, no one showed me the ropes The Don dada, shot-caller, no one puttin' me on I ain't worry 'bout a soul, boy, I stay with a po' If anybody finna Bol, then his body get rolled (yeah) I'on care 'bout opinions, I just say what I know I'm a doughboy, get it 'til the day that I'm gone I make M's not friends, so our circle is closed The real doughboy, gettin' money all that I know I could flip a hunnid times and I still need mo' Go-getter, bread-winner, bitch, I fiend for the dope First time I touch tens said, "I need ten more" Throw some bands up in the trap, get it back ten fold I'm a hustler and a player, bitch, I play both roles I gotta love-hate relationship with money and hoes I know the real gon' relate, I know the fake gon' hate Praise the motherfucking real, if you ain't then you late All the lames speaking on me 'cause I do what they can't Every time I make a flip, I put some bands in a safe I make plays count, cake off of the risks that I take I can hear yo' stomach achin' cause the risk ain't made Big bank or little bank, what the fuck do ya think? If you ain't adding, you subtracting, get the fuck out the way My heart cold, mind gone, with a mouth full of gold I'm a doughboy, gettin' money all that I know Self-made, bread-winner, no one showed me the ropes The Don dada, shot-caller, no one puttin' me on I ain't worry 'bout a soul, boy, I stay with a po' If anybody finna Bol, then his body get rolled I'on care 'bout opinions, I just say what I know I'm a doughboy, get it 'til the day that I'm gone And for these dead presidents, we knock his head off his throat Five piece, one play, you ain't seen that before Whatchu need? Bet I got it, come and cop for the low I'm either runnin' up a check, or with the work on the road I can teach you 30 times how to ball like a pro And I could teach you 30 mo' and you'd still be broke I flip a gram to a O, turn a bitch to a hoe Only dollars making sense, and that's all that I know I'ma fiend for the guap, bitch, I'm part of the mob I count cake, runnin' clocks, swear this shit don't stop Got a dollar from a dime and started huggin' the block Since then, past ten, I've been thumbin' through knots I been on top, the opps really been all talk I can tell he pump fakin' from the way that he walk Pave lanes, make change, that's the way I was taught Applying pressure at they necks, 'til they line me in chalk (that's on the mob) My heart cold, mind gone, with a mouth full of gold I'm a doughboy, gettin' money all that I know Self-made, bread-winner, no one showed me the ropes The Don dada, shot-caller, no one puttin' me on I ain't worry 'bout a soul, boy, I stay with a po' If anybody finna Bol, then his body get rolled I'on care 'bout opinions, I just say what I know I'm a doughboy, get it 'til the day that I'm gone My heart cold, mind gone, with a mouth full of gold I'm a doughboy, gettin' money all that I know Self-made, bread-winner, no one showed me the ropes The Don dada, shot-caller, no one puttin' me on I ain't worry 'bout a soul, boy, I stay with a po' If anybody finna Bol, then his body get rolled I'on care 'bout opinions, I just say what I know I'm a doughboy, get it 'til the day that I'm gone
Writer(s): Corey Dennis Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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