If It Don’t Make Money lyrics

[Intro]
(Johnny Flame make that sh*t hard)
(Iggy made it) Ayy, yeah
Gang, skii
It don't make money, it don't make sense to me

[Chorus]
If it don't make money, it don't make sense to me (Yeah)
Forty on my wrist and my neck like one-fifty (Damn)
You the type of n*gga that would sign a three-sixty (Dumbass)
Always di*k-ridin', you act just like P. Diddy (Ugh)
Somethin' like LeBron, came in with that heat with me
All my hoes fine, all my b*tches real pretty (On God)
It's been seven hours and lil' brodie still sticky (Damn)
f*ckin' IG models you've been dreamin' 'bout hittin' (Ugh)
Just made like forty thousand, lil' b*tch, I'm not kiddin' (Ch-ching)
You ain't tryna get rich, pus*y, I can't rock with you (Yeah)
Took the roof off this b*tch, slidin' with the top missin' (Skrrt)
We got grown man money, me and my n*ggas not children

[Verse]
Gettin' money while you sittin' 'round chillin'
I just wanna count millions, break my bank account, n*gga
All this water on me, I might drown, n*gga
Put the hoes before the money, yeah, you a clown, n*gga
We been smokin' so much loud, I can't hear a sound, n*gga
I'ma beat her down until your b*tch get out, n*gga (Ugh)
You ain't talkin' money, broke boy, you just sound silly (Silly boy)
He can't up that bag 'cause that n*gga not really gettin' money (Yeah)
Real rich n*gga, baby, I can get it if I want it
b*tch, I'm pimpin', I ain't trippin', I will not fall for no woman (Rich)
I'm the kid the broke n*ggas hate, the bad b*tches love
This b*tch got a whole lot of cake, I told her back it up (Skii)
[Chorus]
If it don't make money, it don't make sense to me (Yeah)
Forty on my wrist and my neck like one-fifty (Damn)
You the type of n*gga that would sign a three-sixty (Dumbass)
Always di*k-ridin', you act just like P. Diddy (Get off my di*k)
Somethin' like LeBron, came in with that heat with me (Yeah)
All my hoes fine, all my b*tches real pretty (Ugh)
It's been seven hours and lil' brodie still sticky (Damn)
f*ckin' IG models you've been dreamin' 'bout hittin' (Ugh)
Just made like forty thousand, lil' b*tch, I'm not kiddin' (Ch-ching)
You ain't tryna get rich, pus*y, I can't rock with you (Ugh)
Took the roof off this b*tch, slidin' with the top missin' (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
We got grown man money, me and my n*ggas not children (Ain't no damn kid)

[Outro]
pus*y boy, we not children
We got grown man money, pus*y boy, we not children
On God, n*gga
Gang, ayy, skii
If it don't make money, it don't make sense to me
Forty on my wrist and my neck like one-fifty
Ice, ice, ice