DY Krazy
Yeah
Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
Hit the Pyrex ’til my wrist broke (Trap, trap)
In the studio whippin’ crack for the pipe smoke (Let’s go), yeah
Whip the Pyrex ’til my wrist broke, yeah (Trap, trap, trap, trap)
Counting my racks, yeah, they don’t fold (Cash, cash, cash, oh yeah)
I can’t have one bank account, several bank accounts (Cha-ching)
So much money, I can’t even count, several bank accountants (Cha-ching, yeah)
I ask her what her brain about, shorty come top me down (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Had a problem with ’em until foenem came and shot ’em down (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Ice on my wrist, like I got a fever
Fuck her all night, I need a breather
I don’t want drugs, bitch, I need ’em
Pop me a Perc, I don’t even got a reason
Pop me an opp, don’t even got a reason
I just hate it when all my opps be breathin’
Smoking Gelato, I’m coughin’ and wheezin’
Rollin’ up strong, puffin’ on seedless
Every season is money season
I’m K Dot with these money trees shadin’ me
Hundred dollar bill racks on me
Three million dollars deals, life on fleek
Broke niggas can’t afford to speak
New watch, ten mortgages
I’ma talk my shit, lace up the Gucci shoes, walk my shit (Okay)
Remember working for minimum wage, felt like I was in a cage
I done got rich and made a way
Shit, I done got rich and made a wave
Gotta thank God for the alley-oop
I drove to the hole, he set the play
I dare a nigga try and take this away
I’ma grab the Smith N’, put a hole in his face
Now I got all these nigga’s bitches tweakin’, blowin’ my DMs down (Down)
Tellin’ me all the freaky shit they gon’ do when they man not around
Tellin’ me that they want me, that they down to hold me down (Down)
But I know for a fact they gon’ do the same shit to me when a richer nigga come in they town
Hit the Pyrex ’til my wrist broke (Trap, trap)
In the studio whippin’ crack for the pipe smoke (Let’s go), yeah
Whip the Pyrex ’til my wrist broke, yeah (Trap, trap, trap, trap)
Counting my racks, yeah, they don’t fold (Cash, cash, cash, oh yeah)
I can’t have one bank account, several bank accounts (Cha-ching)
So much money, I can’t even count, several bank accountants (Cha-ching, yeah)
I ask her what her brain about, shorty come top me down (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Had a problem with ’em until foenem came and shot ’em down (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Count up a grip, tie up the Ricks
Get shot in the face if you talkin’ that shit
I’m with all the smoke, turnin’ niggas to spliffs
Chopper know karate ’cause the bitch got a kick
In the studio, spittin’ STDs, everything a nigga say super sick
Put a fifty in it, yeah, a titty in it
I be really with it, I done really came from the trenches
You know that my niggas gon’ win
Yeah, my life is a blessing, all I do is grin
Booling out on a hundred thousand dollar rim
I put the Kevin in Kevin Durant
All these W’s, I feel like a champ
That’s ’cause I am, yeah, blessed, through the stress
I thank God, without him, wouldn’t be here
Hit the Pyrex ’til my wrist broke (Trap, trap)
In the studio whippin’ crack for the pipe smoke (Let’s go), yeah
Whip the Pyrex ’til my wrist broke, yeah (Trap, trap, trap, trap)
Counting my racks, yeah, they don’t fold (Cash, cash, cash, oh yeah)
I can’t have one bank account, several bank accounts (Cha-ching)
So much money, I can’t even count, several bank accountants (Cha-ching, yeah)
I ask her what her brain about, shorty come top me down (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Had a problem with ’em until foenem came and shot ’em down (Yeah, yeah, yeah)