The Pape lyrics

[Intro]
Huh?
n*ggas actin' like this sh*t ain't 'bout the money or somethin'
(MIA JAY C)
Huh? Ayy

[Verse 1]
If I don't know nothin', I know how to make a 'bow flip
I ain't gon' lie, enough pape'll get a n*gga ho hit
Pandemic money gone, n*ggas doin' ho sh*t
We don't never do no drive-bys, we do door kicks
Every day I wake up, get up, grind like I want ten
You would never see me judge a man like I don't sin
Swimmin' in the deep end, so I tote fin
If it's business, I'm VLONE, ain't got no friends
Sold so many three-fives before I came the dope man
Auntie don't f*ck with cocaine, she a blow fan
Unc' on the other hand, that n*gga a snowman
Been stopped sellin' work, still got it on hand
Bankroll so big, I had to hold it up with both hands
They wonder why the rappers wanna hang with the dope man
He don't know my life if he don't sell Lindsay Lohan
I been out here on my own ten, I'm a grown man
I always check my back door, it be your own mans
Everybody out here got a price, I don't want friends
My plug put that one sh*t on the floor, I'm like, "I want in"
Every day, I try to make ten bands before I go in (Huh?)
[Interlude]
Huh
You gotta know that
n*ggas act like this sh*t ain't 'bout the money or somethin'
Huh, run that motherf*ckin' money up
Huh? (Huh?)
That's what you gotta know

[Verse 2]
That's what you gotta know
The plug hit me with that one sh*t, I'm like, "Geronimo"
Everybody knew I was gon' sell dope, even my mama know
My fiends said they wanna see food, I'm like Pappadeaux
In the kitchen choppin' those
All my guns come with drums, I do rock and roll
They say Skilla on fire, stop, drop, and roll
My hoes be poppin' hoes
My bros'll pop your bros
n*gga soft as cotton rolls
My mama'll beat your mama ass
And if your mama touch my mama, I'ma beat your mama ass
I don't do less than one-fifty, it's two hundred on the dash
Chop a n*gga hand off, I catch him reachin' in my stash
Last year, I made two-fifty, I don't brag
Seven hundred horsepower, who that n*gga on that neck?
I fell off a lil' bit, but this year, I'm back in my bag
Back to makin' n*ggas mad
I think a lot of n*ggas fags
A lot of b*tches wanna shag
I got good sense, but ain't got GoodSense, Glad bag
Young n*gga, grown money
I look up to myself, I got my own money
PUA done, all my n*ggas gettin' phone money
Short temper, long money
Last year, you n*ggas was road runners
The last thing I wanna hear is, "Let me hold somethin'"
Brodie in the pen', he'll poke somethin'
Skilla on the show, they know the G.O.A.T. comin'
Your b*tch comin' over, I know that throat comin'
Every day, I text my plug, "I need work, let me know somethin'"
Last year, I made two-fifty, this year, I'm makin' four somethin'
I'm tryna get some pape', please don't call me if you don't want nothin'
It's all about the Benjamins
Huh, f*ck n*ggas, get money, that's my temperament
Ten on me every time I hit a b*tch
[Outro]
No cap, n*gga
We gon' start the year off right
New year, new pape'
On God
Huh?