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how many times - baby money lyrics

[intro: baby money]
(flexin’)
(cypress)
yeah, go

[verse 1: baby money]
f*ck the whip, i’m droppin’ ashes on the red leather
threesomes every day, i think i finally found my d*mn fetish
left her for another b*tch ’cause her head better
she told me she don’t need a n*gga ’cause her man petty
the plug told me cuh, i’ma win, i think i’m craig petties
first to the third, we ain’t givin’ out no d*mn credit
back on the car, so when i aim, it make my stance better
grip on the glock, so when i shoot, it keep my hand stеady
y’all down two, we still spinnin’, hope your mans ready
dirty nails, nеver seen my face, but my hands in it
if i ain’t get on feet myself, then my mans did it
drop a n*gga, put him on the ‘gram, k!ller cam, n*gga
this ain’t no srt truck, this a lamb’, n*gga
hand on my pistol, through my life, i done hammed n*ggas
can’t talk crazy on the ‘gram and be a family n*gga
work make me wanna cherish money, i used to scam n*ggas

[chorus: baby money]
how many times i told you we was gon’ get with you? (how many times?)
how many times i told you we was still spinning? (how many times?)
how many times i told you we gon’ come and get you?
you got tricked off the streets and end up dyin’ with your n*ggas (how many times?)
how many times i told you we was gon’ get rich, b*tch? (how many times?)
how many times i told you we gon’ be the sh*t, b*tch?
how many times i told you we was still lit?
don’t call my phone about no ho if she made it to my list, man (how many times?)
[verse 2: sk!lla baby]
ha, i don’t know how many times i blew at his ass
i’m quick to slide down a n*gga block and shoot at his ass
got one n*gga creepin’ at his door and two in the grass
you better not shoot at that n*gga legs, you better shoot at his head
man, i’ll slide down, blow the fully out the striker ’til the clip on fire
like a lighter, this murder for hire
have bro catch him in the county, stab him up, michael myers
don’t care who b*tch it is, i’ma get her if i like her
new patek on, sk!lla, i see you stackin’ pros
leave with some hoes, that’s just what i do at my shows
psych, nah, i’m boostin’, man, you know i don’t f*ck fans
every time i make twenty thousand, i tuck ten, ha

- baby money lyrics

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