Worry Bout

[Hook: Remy-DMC & Caskey]
It's been a minute since I hit that marijuana
I fucked your bitch and now I'm hitting her mother
That shit you dealing with, I ain't worried 'bout (Cut it out)
I'm busy counting up my money, my brother, I'll cut you out
I got money coming in all kinda ways
Ooh, ooh, all kinda ways
I got money coming in all kinda ways
Yeah, yeah, all kinda ways

[Post-Hook: Caskey]
Okay, iced Patek Philippe, roll dice up through the street
I'm high and I'm inside the booty club twice a week
I'm fly, I ain't gotta talk to 'em, my Rollie speak
I play for keeps, shitting on rappers to say the least

[Verse 1: Remy-DMC]
Living in a city where the women ain't a issue
Niggas talking shit, disdain and such, well here's a tissue
I am slowly coming up, so if you man up, bitch, continue
Your bitch is on my bed, not knowing (Dab, dab, dab)
Dabbing on them sheets, oh yeah, Kodak's on the beat
[?] on repeat, and I got her on her knees
Ain't a picture ain't been painted where I stay, so paint the picture
Smoking marijuana to deal with all officials

[Bridge: Remy-DMC]
'cause you ain't the nigga I worry 'bout
You ain't the nigga I worry 'bout
I don't really give a shit about you or your whereabouts
I'm busy counting money, my nigga, I'll cut you out
You ain't the nigga I worry 'bout
You be that nigga that nobody know nothing 'bout

[Verse 2: Remy-DMC]
She know the deal; she give me ass, I give her bills
All the suckers wouldn't belong in the field, gotta kill
Other roaches in the game that think they got it, they don't get it
See everything that they got, I hold back, I done did it

[Hook: Remy-DMC & Caskey]
It's been a minute since I hit that marijuana
I fucked your bitch and now I'm hitting her mother
That shit you dealing with, I ain't worried 'bout (Cut it out)
I'm busy counting up my money, my brother, I'll cut you out
I got money coming in all kinda ways
Ooh, ooh, all kinda ways
I got money coming in all kinda ways
Yeah, yeah, all kinda ways

[Post-Hook: Caskey]
Okay, iced Patek Philippe, roll dice up through the street
I'm high and I'm inside the booty club twice a week
I'm fly, I ain't gotta talk to 'em, my Rollie speak
I play for keeps, shitting on rappers to say the least

[Verse 2: Caskey]
Man, she lied to my face like politicians, she Clinton, I got a trump
You been lying in your raps and all that shit getting debunked
Roll through the city smoking on blunts, I stunt
Told 'em twice, shouldn't even have told 'em once, you front
I never affiliate with you, automatic
You calling my phone, it's static, I got the pounds in the attic
My pops died, I was sixteen, that shit was tragic
But it turned me to a hustler, I learned how I could stack it
Man, it started with a ounce in the backpack
I learn not to backtrack, you a bitch and you be stuck on some sad raps
I been a gangsta, even in skinny jeans and a dad hat
Used to kick a do' and then tell 'em, "Yo, where the stash at?"
Put the thirty round to they head and don't make me blast that
We taking cash, you don't get no cash back, I'm having flashbacks

[Bridge: Caskey]
To when, huh, money coming in
All kinda ways, all kinda ways, all kinda ways
Yeah, money coming
All kinda ways, all kinda ways, all kinda ways

[Hook: Remy-DMC & Caskey]
It's been a minute since I hit that marijuana
I fucked your bitch and now I'm hitting her mother
That shit you dealing with, I ain't worried 'bout (Cut it out)
I'm busy counting up my money, my brother, I'll cut you out
I got money coming in all kinda ways
Ooh, ooh, all kinda ways
I got money coming in all kinda ways
Yeah, yeah, all kinda ways

[Post-Hook: Caskey]
Okay, iced Patek Philippe, roll dice up through the street
I'm high and I'm inside the booty club twice a week
I'm fly, I ain't gotta talk to 'em, my Rollie speak
I play for keeps, shitting on rappers to say the least