Makin’ G’s lyrics

Sample: Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

Verse 1:
I'm all about my bacon-cheese, I told that money, "wait for me."
Foolin out from A-Z, so basically don't play with me
Smoke a bowl, cookin coke, f*ckin hoes in vacancy
Stash house from Cali to Raleigh belong to Crazy G
Good police and fake police, you hate police, I pay police
Either or I even score, I bring in more you pay for lease
They compare my weed stinks to deceased arm pits
Fire arms, muscle up, south beach, I f*cked it up
Hotel erotica, VH1 exotica
Rental yacht, Key West, call that pus*y Nautica
Man, I swear all I got is a Goddess
Stop to acknowledge her
Pradas on my property, lotta cheese and broccoli
Fake tits, fake lips, I just call her counterfeit
Put her down, pick her up, it's back to who I found her with
Haitian leaves, wrapping Jamaican trees
Haters prey on me cause I be makin G's
n*gga we be...

Hook:
Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

Verse 2:
All this money got me rollin with them fly b*tches
Do or die b*tches, them ain't yours, you a liar, them is my b*tches
I got a white b*tch, I got a dyke b*tch
I got a love to shoot dice, love to fight b*tch
I got a love to mix the lean with the sprite b*tch
Sorry baby, I can't make it, got another flight b*tch
But you know what? But you know what?
Man all them b*tches...
Hook:
Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

Verse 3:
I feel like Lil' Phat, how I count my money backwards
A savage in the trap, bumpin Webbie while we wrap up
Rubber bands, duffle bags, prada, gucci, louie rags
Whole lotta fire arms, lights off, laser tag
Half a million dollars on my lap, what the f*ck is that?
Call that pack, that Pheonix Jones, I open up, it's running back
No b*tches don't work for me, my n*ggas where that money at
My momma know she birthed a G, her son be worth 100 racks
Money money money, and all I know is money homie
Go and get some choppas maybe you can take it from me homie
Me and Badass, smokin loud all wild
Keep some ecstasy and liquor lean, couldn't slow me down
b*tches used to walk past, but them hoes know me now
Got them b*tches pumpin pounds, till the shop close down
Flight to Louisiana, my n*ggas with country grammar
But don't ever get it twisted, they poppin tags and hammers

Hook:
Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

||There's definitely a few mistakes, I was just trying to get a rough guess of my interpretation up.||