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MONEY TALK!
par
Tony Shhnow
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(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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