Run to the Money lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah
Shun On Da Beat

[Chorus]
Big chain, sippin' fours
Cuban link, they're drippin' gold
Ballin' all off a ho
I'm a dog, yeah, I know
Got it all out the bowl
One in the head, yeah, locked and loaded
Choppin' raw on the stove
Your b*tch gon' call for that pole
Don't make me walk down your bros
And lil' b*tch stalking, yeah, for sure
You might think I'm crazy now
Well business up, ain't like before
I'm in love with my .40, I gun at a n*gga throat
I'ma run to that money

[Verse 1]
Ayy, Cuban link with the piece and chain
Your n*gga hatin' then he's a lame
Don't f*ck without her, she's some game
Heard he throwin' salt, then he need some game
No sh*t about leeching, man
Y'all keep talking, last n*gga reaching, man
Used to ride like some priests, man
Now I'm hopping out of Wagens, G's and things
b*tch, I'm a hustler, yeah, I got the funds
f*ck all that fussing, b*tch, I got the gun
You pus*y, be capping, be popping your gums
You want all the smoke, well I pop at your lungs
I'm too trigger happy, be popping for fun
Yeah, for the bands, I'm still popping them drums
Ran up that sack, went and got me a fund
So happy I got a b*tch and got insurance
I might make your b*tch cheese a little
Chopper start nuttin' if I squeeze a little
Hollow tips, I Swiss cheese a n*gga
Why you cuff the ho if she easy, n*gga?
Cool out, be easy, n*gga
'Fore I make her run to C Breezy, n*gga
I never f*cked around with sleazy n*ggas
I just f*cked the ho because she pleased a n*gga
[Chorus]
Big chain, sippin' fours
Cuban link, they're drippin' gold
Ballin' all off a ho
I'm a dog, yeah, I know
Got it all out the bowl
One in the head, yeah, locked and loaded
Choppin' raw on the stove
Your b*tch gon' call for that pole
Don't make me walk down your bros
And lil' b*tch stalking, yeah, for sure
You might think I'm crazy now
Well business up, ain't like before
I'm in love with my .40, I gun at a n*gga throat
I'ma run to that money

[Verse 2]
Hey, hold up, wait up a minute, cuz
They playing games but I been the plug
Deliver that sack, call me Jimmy Johns
Rocks chopped up big as Cinnabons
Call my lil' n*ggas to get it done
'Cause we got them birds like Timmy on
Ask around, b*tch, I been a don
f*cked that ho and I ain't strap a jimmy on, hey
Strapped up with the semi drum
Beat that pus*y up until that kitty moan
Skrrt, ah skrrt, make that hemi yawn
That n*gga crashed out, yeah, get him gone
Yella, you really wanna get him gone?
n*gga call shots, yeah, I get sh*t done
Chase that sack, money itch my palm
Might f*ck your ho, lil' b*tch don't run
Little b*tch, you pretty, huh?
And met a boss n*gga, oh really, huh?
With that lame n*gga, oh really, ma?
Come to my pad, you can get it, ma
Hey, 'bout cheese, no Philly, ma
My city call me the Yella P Diddy, ma
Go'n, tell me what's the damn dealy, ma
Not from Nebraska, but I'm illy, ma, hah
[Chorus]
Big chain, sippin' fours
Cuban link, they're drippin' gold
Ballin' all off a ho
I'm a dog, yeah, I know
Got it all out the bowl
One in the head, yeah, locked and loaded
Choppin' raw on the stove
Your b*tch gon' call for that pole
Don't make me walk down your bros
And lil' b*tch stalking, yeah, for sure
You might think I'm crazy now
Well business up, ain't like before
I'm in love with my .40, I gun at a n*gga throat
I'ma run to that money

[Outro]
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah