doin 2 much - crybaby cash lyrics
yeah, yeah, c’mon
i bring sand uh, uh
i bring sand to the beach
i fly b*tches on em, yeah, up on a plane
yeah, yeah
i bring sand to the beach
i fly hoes on a plane
you buy b*tches naked pictures
how the f*ck you don’t think you lame
oversized prada glasses
block the sun, protect my face
stupid b*tch got blackout drunk
around some strangers, then got raped
what the f*ck, he scaring the hoes bad
he jason without the mask
what the f*ck, i then made 300 bands
just sittin’ off my ass
what the f*ck, i gotta clean my cash
i’m scammin’ and sellin’ bags
it ain’t enough, gotta fall back
you actin’ likе a fan, you doin’ too much
i don’t like postin’ on my page
feel like my likеs don’t be enough
that sundress cool but i like it
when you wear them tights, that make it cuff
he ain’t even make it to the precinct
he was talkin’ when he got cuffed
always been a fly n*gga with them hoes
i ain’t never cared about being tough
n*ggas really cuffin’ hoes and sh*t
it’s me, i’m n*ggas
b*tch you not no prize
you got way too many bodies
at the enterprise with fake id
let’s get it poppin’
add a auto primary to get my credit higher
b*tch, you still got that gut
what happened to that f*ckin’ diet
this n*gga broke, but don’t want a job
you need to f*ckin’ try it
whoa, cybertruck, sitting too high
can’t barely f*ckin’ drive it
i’m in the bahamas on an island
and i’m flyin’ private
i bring sand to the beach
i fly hoes on a plane
you buy b*tches naked pictures
how the f*ck you don’t think you lame
oversized prada glasses
block the sun, protect my face
stupid b*tch got blackout drunk
around some strangers, then got raped
what the f*ck, he scaring the hoes bad
he jason without the mask
what the f*ck, i then made 300 bands
just sittin’ off my ass
what the f*ck, i gotta clean my cash
i’m scammin’ and sellin’ bags
it ain’t enough, gotta fall back
you actin’ like a fan, you doin’ too much
if i post her on my insta
then you know i like her
if i post her in a close friend’s
then i just one night her
i’m the sh*t like diaper
roll the wood, get high as eiffel
my potna said he got a striker
i’m tryin’ to buy a striker
he found out his b*tch was a piper
he went and grabbed a rifle
he threw his whole life away
now his ass a lifer
he was a certified lover boy
he was not a fighter
he crashed out behind a b*tch
that ain’t care about the title
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