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Yeah, waiting on orange juice We having lemonade mimosas right now I told that bitch Cash App the homie a stack Follow these directions like a map and always have my back Stash my weed and all the shooters gats Chanel is nothin, we'll have you swimming in that No cell phones when you in my zone You know how quick a picture would destroy a happy home Probably smoke this whole zip alone Playing oldies out my phone, bluetooth speakers Discard a bitch most would consider a keeper I'm not one of them dudes, boo I'm ain't dying to have you, I'm living to have coupes Dress cool and always blow that smoke out when I pass through All that hating is bad for you like fast food Tearing you up from the inside, your feelings you can't hide Blaming other people for your shitty position in life You better level up and get your fucking money right It wasn't easy but I done it Entered the race and started running, fucked around and I won it Bulletproof sedan Two hundred, eighty grand Scoop us when we land Maneuver for the bands SongtexteGot the cash in my hand More money in the plans Otherwise you ain't sayin nothing understand (Yeah) tryna be a better pops than my pop Trap phone ringing, I answered, how much you got? Niggas in the hood light it up like Fourth of July Round table meetings just minus the suit and tie It's me against the world, man they tell me that's suicide I used to text old girl, but old girl would never reply (fuck her) On the road for the Dollar Menu, no Supersize Runnin from them boys up in blue, they a shoot you down When it's crunch time for they food, they don't fool around The block on fire, it's sizzling, cool it down (uh) They tell me hell hot, but all my niggas in the graveyard or in the cell block All my niggas earning mad stripes like some shell tops Used to jump shots, but now they pill pop All she ever seen was mad bills in the mailbox Saw yellow tape on the door, say she got to go Or some yellow tape on the body, tag on they toe How we make it out of the ghetto, hustle and flow (uh) How we bought our mamas those cribs, audio dope (audio dope) Nails dirty from trapping, I need some soap From lack of dough to having cash to blow (blat) Bulletproof sedan Two hundred, eighty grand Scoop us when we land Maneuver for the bands Got the cash in my hand More money in the plans Otherwise you ain't sayin nothing understand You ain't talkin bout a profit then ain't no need to holler I be smokin on them flowers while I'm counting up my dollars I be coolie in the cut, still want the money and the power Addicted to the grind 365, twenty-four hours I'm addicted to the bags, I got it bad At the lot bout to cop something for the days I didn't have But it's all good now, but I can't forget when shit was bad Had to get up off my ass and put some racks up in the stash In the cut getting this bag right Counted up twenty just last night From sun up to sundown, I'm living that grind life I come from the jungle, ain't no questioning my stripes Here for the change, fuck the fame and the limelight, nigga Bulletproof sedan Two hundred, eighty grand Scoop us when we land Maneuver for the bands Got the cash in my hand More money in the plans Otherwise you ain't sayin nothing understand Aus Songtexte Mania