Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Duckman
Rap
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Demar Moultrie
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Duckman
Executive Producer
Lyrics
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I was like, what up, ****
You know what time it is
Ayy, **** knowin' I'm the truth
Businessman without a suit
Run up on me, I'ma
Ayy, yeah
Run up on me, I'ma shoot
Bitch I'm trippin' too
**** never seen no money
Till I pulled up
He ain't really count no paper
He can't fool us
Big strap, cause my whole
Gang jeweled up
First **** get shot
Playin' too tough
Yeah, yeah
Ayy, money low
Back to the trap
We gon' get it in first week
We made a hundred thousand
What you tryna spend
Playin' silly games
With your life
What you tryna win
First class flights to the guys
He ain't tryna live
My **** Kobe
Keep it choppa like a helicopter
In the trenches
Sellin' big pharma
Richer than a doctor
Want me to cook this shit
In front of dawg
This ain't Benihana
My **** Kool
Ain't got no kids
But he fuck your baby mama
You gon' run behind a bitch
And I'ma chase the bag ****
While you rap about some shit
That you ain't never had, ****
In the coupe
With a hundred on me
Racin' past ****
Snakes in the yard
Gotta cut the grass, ****
They try to go against the gang
You can't break me
I can put some real **** on
What that make me
Been consistent with this shit
They can't shake me
Keep that pistol on my hip
They can't take me
I got too much shit to lose
I can't crash out
This the last one
We gotta cash out
Rule four
Never take him to the stash house
Bitch look like Meg the Stallion
With her ass out
Every time we spend
A **** block
We left a mess on it
**** talkin' like they bulletproof
Until we step on them
Get a **** touch
From out of town
You know the reach long
Broke ****
Can't afford
The bed that I sleep on
In a club
I'm blowin' money
Fast like Meech and Terry
20 thousand in this Gucci
Pant fuckin' Amiri
White Buffs
50 pointers
In them look like cherries
You would think
I had a license
For the way I carry
Panamera
Lookin' real good
I gotta snatch one
Bro drop a eight
I drop a eight
We bout to match one
I put some real **** on
What that make me
Bro came to grab one
Let em' take three
Real **** first
Gettin money second
If you on and you don't put your people on I can't respect it
Had to send my young **** threw they section with a message
They don't sleep
They gon' pull up
In the morning
Before breakfast
They try to go
Against the game
You can't break me
Put some real **** on
What that make me
Been consistent
With this shit
They can't shake me
Keep that pistol
On my hip
They can't take me
I got too much shit
To lose
I can't crash out
This the last one
You gotta cash out
Rule four
Never take em
To the stash house
Bitch look like
Meg The Stallion
With her ass out
Out
Written by: Demar Moultrie
