Make Alotta Money lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, n*gga, ayy

[Chorus]
Yeah, ayy (Gang, gang)
Young n*gga make a lot of money (Yeah, you know we make a lot of money over here, you know)
Yeah, yeah, ayy
Keep a pretty b*tch in case sh*t get ugly
Yeah, n*gga, gang, ayy (Yeah)
I know all my n*ggas ridin' for me, yeah (Everyone around here ridin' for me, on God)
Ayy, n*gga, no cap, yeah
Bags in, brodie trap jumpin' (Yeah)

[Verse]
Watch me turn nothin' to somethin'
Open up my pocket and I stuffed it
Can't have one ho, I need a couple (Need a couple)
Got a fifty ball in this duffle (Yeah)
When my n*ggas ran into some trouble, they hop get to... (Yeah)
Baby, I ain't come to cuddle
I got a bag, made another, then bought a chain for my brother
I'm tryna f*ck, why you think I got your number? (Ugh)
I'ma grind the whole winter, then I'ma pop sh*t the whole summer
All this dog sh*t, I need a plumber (Dog sh*t)
Heard you went broke, that's a bummer, lil' n*gga get your money up
Bad b*tch got her tummy tucked (Ooh)
Hundred thou' on my kit, fifty bands, that ain't nothin' to us (Ain't nothin' to us)
That b*tch easy, she wasn't nothin' to bust (She wasn't nothin' to bust)
She tryna argue... I don't wanna fuss (b*tch)
All I wanna do is just run it up, I need all my n*ggas like a hundred up
Them n*ggas used to dap me, now they stop to say I'm comin' up
All my pockets stuffed, I got plenty bucks (n*gga, yeah)
n*ggas hatin', sh*t, I couldn't give a f*ck (On God)
When I'm tryna f*ck, only time that I hit her up (Yeah, yeah)
I ran my digits up, bad b*tch but it ain't big enough (On God, n*gga)
[Chorus]
Yeah, ayy
Young n*gga make a lot of money (Yeah, ayy)
Ayy, ayy (You know we make a lot of money over here, n*gga)
Keep a pretty b*tch in case sh*t get ugly (Yeah, ayy)
Yeah, n*gga, no cap, gang, yeah (You know I always keep a pretty b*tch, n*gga)
All the bad b*tches say they love me (All the bad b*tches love me)
Yeah, n*gga, (Gang) gang (Yeah)
All the bad b*tches wanna f*ck me

[Verse 2]
Brought his ho 'round the gang, got his b*tch hit
VVS' on me, got my wrist lit
Brodie keep a stick, I wouldn't risk it
She don't need no BBL, she some thick sh*t (Ugh)
I just made a check on some quick sh*t
Grind forever, I can't quit, b*tch (On God)

[Chorus]
Yeah, ayy, skii (Yeah)
Young n*gga make a lot of money (Yeah, I make a lot of money)
Yeah, ayy, yeah, ayy (Ayy)
Keep a pretty b*tch in case sh*t get ugly (In case this sh*t get ugly)
Yeah, n*gga, gang, ayy, ayy (Yeah)
I know all my n*ggas ridin' for me, yeah (Yeah, I know they ridin' for me)
Ayy, n*gga, no cap (On God, b*tch)
Bags in, brodie trap jumpin' (Got my n*gga's trap jumpin')
[Outro]
Bags in, brodie trap jumpin'
Ayy
Young n*gga make a lot of money
Yeah, ayy, yeah
All the bad b*tches say they love me, yeah
Gang, ayy
All the bad b*tches wanna f*ck me (Skii)