Dollars

I ain't tripping off my old bitch
I'm chasin dollars not hoes I'm about to be so rich
These faggots hating they can come and suck my whole dick
I hit the weights every day on some swole shit
I ain't ever had a Glock, I don't own clips
If you on some real shit come get both fists
But that's the problem, I never started shit, I never robbed em
But the they wanna run up on me and be talking like I got him
As if there ever was a problem, you ain't in my ranks no nada
Y'all be coming at my flanks no Shabba
Fuck that shit man, I've been hiding out in Gotham
These rappers fuckin up, and it's coming time to drop em
You can't slow him down and You can't ever stop him
Boy I get the crowds rockin cuz my shit is really poppin
I make em scream dawg, you barely get they heads noddin
You just jealous cuz you not him, the white hopsin
We set traps in the trap but somehow the rats got in
Press delete on all these gay fags
Need to fumigate fast, to show me where the motherfucking snakes at
Ain't recording on an eight track, but my Spotify tracks gettin mad playback
Put it on repeat while you sleep til I got enough money for a maybach and I'm laid back with an eighth sack
Throw it in the blunt then I lace that then I face that with a gray cap
Til I'm way trashed I'm saint pat in a great vast definition of a slab sippin grain xan while I'm tripping off 8 tabs
Before the plane lands, in the desert terrain sands