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by Ace Hood


Uh, okay now fuck all this bullshit, I´m fresh off a full clip
Counting this fucking money, did that with no scholarship
I guess what that money taught, so fuck what you niggas thought
My bitch got a Porsche truck, like look what that pussy parked
Got that hustler demeanor, fresh and I´m out that two seater
Got to sleep with the reaper, and watch out for them people
Cause the devil be lurkin´, all these pistols are dirty
All my niggas is riders, their clips extended with thirty
I woke up early this morning, thanked the lord I´m alive
Kissed my daughter then told my lady I´m back on the grind
Gotta do it for [?], that´s my daily remind
Fuck these bitches, the money, power, respect on my mind
It ain´t no love for the week, ain´t no top on the Jeep
Tell them haters I´m over sea´s, I´ll be back in a week
I´m trying to get richer than Trump, a couple million for lunch
I need the cover of Forbes with We The Best on the front
I´m going main, nigga kiss my ass
These niggas be stealing my flow and all, ain´t even mad
I swear my flow is dope as coke, come get your bag
Just bought that Aston Martin, ymmm´, that fucker fast
Nigga started with a dollar and a dream, show me the cream
All about that profit piling, partner that´s by any means
That fifty-thousand in my pocket busting out the seams
Hopping out that coupe, that roof go missing bitch like bada-bing
Knock knock, bang bang, ever since back then they wanna know who I be
H double-O-D, was running the streets since I was like seventeen
I put it on mama, always dreamed of having a Lamborghin´
Them niggas was hating, still I was skating in that [?]
Oh I mean [?]
It´s money over bitches, what my niggas claim
Probably in the whip with my little Spanish thing
All day, in the back of the back number nine J´s
I be balling, small thing know what I mean?
I say what´s up with them bitches? Molly, weed, and some liquor
I´m the type of nigga do you first and then your sister
I´m a savage, with fifty karats
Came from the bottom of the barrel, to living lavish
Blood on my sneakers, brother´s keeper I see dead people
´Bout them figures, squeeze them triggers I´m just soul seeking
I think you pussy, I can smell it on you loud and clear
And since my daddy left me young, I ran up out of fear
And when it come down to my family, bitch I die for them
Blow that chopper through your chest to show you shit is real





 

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