DONT TALK MONEY lyrics

[Intro]
(Rell On The Track)
(1-800 for you)
Are you in the mafia?

[Verse 1]
Don't talk money, I’m a n*gga with a lot of that
I got real long paper, b*tch, I ain't gotta rap
You spendin' all that money on some drank, you should’ve bought a strap
b*tch think I'm into real estate 'cause I just bought a trap
I was in the Zone, I wasn't thinkin' 'bout no TV screen
Rappin'-ass n*gga, we'd throw him in your limousine
I ain’t chasin’ liquor, but I came with a lemon squeeze
I can't fit this money I just made in my Amiri jeans
b*tch ass so damn fat, I’m like, "What the f*ck?"
Rims so big, you gotta damn near hop up out the truck
n*ggas in Milwaukee caught me slippin', I had to tighten up
Gotta bring your friend, I ain't really into one-on-ones
Gotta keep them racks, I'm not really hip to 201s
I’d straight forget a b*tch exist, use her, one and done
I'd spray a b*tch and her friends with some HoBeGone
Hoes say I'm fresh than a b*tch and I just threw this on
Bring me all the 19 bottles, we don't want Patrón
I've been in Miami for six days, I don't wanna go home
n*gga, I'ma stand on that business like a stepping stone
b*tch say it's givin' paranoid, I got the pistol close
[Chorus]
My b*tch'll run a play on a n*gga like a give-and-go
Pull up in that Rolls, bad b*tch caught the Holy Ghost
You could see I'm gettin' money, rain, sleet, snow, sunny
It ain't even been a whole month and I done made a hundred

[Verse 2]
b*tch, is you tryna have some fun and make two, three hundred?
We pulled up in two foreigns, y'all back to back in two, three hundreds
Light day chillin', and I got on like two, three hundred
She left the club with me, now dummy man can't find his woman
Damedot Racks, b*tch, I'm more richer than your husband
More turnter than your cousin, more player than your uncle
Five bad b*tches in my bed, this a royal rumble
If I put the cog on that boy, they gon' do somethin' to him
Come here, pretty b*tch, let a real n*gga do somethin' to you
RGS the five-letter fam, b*tch, get with the movement
Have a b*tch drunk, clear kayakin' somewhere in Aruba
I can put your toes in the sand and it's all inclusive
Drank goin' up every day, I need another quart
Ballin' 'bout to turn into a crime, I need another sport
I can't stash the racks in this marble, I need another floor
I ain't satisfied with just one, I need another whore
Bring me all the Don Juli' bottles, we don't want no Rose
I've been in Detroit for two days and I'm ready to go
b*tch tryna kick it, but I said this ain't no field goal
She ain't even asked me for no pape', but she a real ho
[Chorus]
My b*tch'll run a play on a n*gga like a give-and-go
Pull up in that Rolls, bad b*tch caught the Holy Ghost
You could see I'm gettin' money, rain, sleet, snow, sunny
It ain't even been a whole month and I done made a hundred