Correction Lyrics MONEY TALK! by Tony Shhnow

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Lyrics

(I really like to use plugg)
(Bitch)
Let's do it
Go, goddamn
Go, go, go, yeah

I'm flexin' on niggas with goddamn pounds
And the trap go up, we make bands go down
Shooter clap him up, we can make his name go 'round
That money talk, nigga, you don't make no sound
All my niggas gon' catch up, trappin' with the racks out
I just hit a play, touchdown
He had a strap, we gon' put his ass down
I love my dog but I still play with the pounds

Niggas always wanna talk about somethin' but they don't wanna talk about money
Nigga wanna talk about me but that Glock got a dick and that bitch so horny
It's early in the morning
Wake up to a check and the birds still yawnin'
It's a TEC on my hip, man, this bitch so official
Cleaner than a whistle, I get paid with my pistol
Runnin' through your trap, rip that bitch up like some tissue
Trap that sack but I rock Christian
We ain't paint the picture then it's artificial
I perform in that kitchen when I cook that cake
My form flawless when I put them pounds on the plate
Trappin', I move with that weight, they like, "He so out of shape"
I ain't even practice for the game, but I'm still flexin' every day

I'm flexin' on niggas with goddamn pounds
And the trap go up, we make bands go down
Shooter clap him up, we can make his name go 'round
That money talk, nigga, you don't make no sound
All my niggas gon' catch up, trappin' with the racks out
I just hit a play, touchdown
He had a strap, we gon' put his ass down
I love my dog but I still play with the pounds

Drop him, toss him, spark him, I'm an arson
We go up like NASA, we gon' turn into a martian
When it come to flexin', shawty, I should be a sergeant
Don't you want some bands, dog, ain't your ass an artist?
I go stupid with that check, my necklace, it go retarded
She keep dancin' on my stick, I snuck my pistol in the party
Peewee Longway, my check blue
Flexin' with a piece, finna shit on you
Want a house in the hills so my shooter got a view
My plug ran a mil' so I gotta do it too

I'm flexin' on niggas with goddamn pounds
And the trap go up, we make bands go down
Shooter clap him up, we can make his name go 'round
That money talk, nigga, you don't make no sound (I really like to use plugg)
All my niggas gon' catch up, trappin' with the racks out
I just hit a play, touchdown (Bitch)
He had a strap, we gon' put his ass down
I love my dog but I still play with the pounds

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

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