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m worth of game - glockboyz teejaee, cash kidd, & ot7 quanny lyrics

[intro: glockboyz teejaee]
come on
yeah

[verse 1: glockboyz teejaee]
alright, you like n*ggas with money, bae, i like you too
i got b*tches at my crib and some at the room
i just woke up and i got fifty thousand all blues
yeah, f*ckin’ around, i f*ck around and make ten every day
you f*ck around and wake me up, might sn*tch a fifty out the bank
she heard a n*gga havin’ money, now she won’t stay up out my face, i had to flee away
i ain’t do sh*t but take my rap money right back to the block
steady havin’ motion like me, i bet that n*gga not
play around, i pulled the trigger ’til that b*tch stopped
in the mall with twenty thousand and a switch, i just came here to shop

[verse 2: ot7 quanny]
i’m with glock, we got thirty bad b*tches on the bus
yeah, this b*tch p*ssy good, i be done turned her up
she know i’m the youngest, richest n*gga in my f*ckin’ city (yop)
give you million dollars worth of game like i’m gillie
i’ll spend twenty thousand when i’m in saks
if that b*tch leave with me, she never comin’ back
every day, i could wear dior ‘nem
where you goin’? you can’t run from this four pim
the way i shoot this b*tch, i could’ve went to georgetown
the way i shoot this b*tch, i could’ve went to georgetown
i done lost count how many n*ggas we done wiped out
p*ssy reach for my chain and it’s lights out
i’ll pull up lambchop, no, this not no chevy
if i see an o*p*p, opp—
i’ll pull up lambchop, no, this not no chevy
if i see an o*p*p, turn that n*gga to spaghetti (p*ssy)
i’ll pull up lambchop, no, this not no chevy
if i see an o*p*p, turn that n*gga to spaghetti
[verse 3: cash kidd]
turn him to spaghetti
lil’ bro gon’ pull up steph for the love like r. kelly
we got down on your brother, walked him down like an usher
tried to cake it and got blocked, treat your thot like a punter
i feel like the waterboy, ’cause this 9 got a stutter
put an apple on your head like he swallowed a gusher
huh, ayy, this sh*t in me and it’s on me just like diarrhea
made him come up off that jewelry like it got subpoenaed
strip a p*ssy for no reason, he got tiny pieces
the glock’ll eye dress a n*gga, but i’m not madea
b*tch, i’m tired of textin’, bring that p*ssy here, i’m tryna see it
louis overalls like i’m ’bout to scream, “my mama mia”
almost all the scammers slappin’ files, i feel like johnny cena
your b*tch tied for second place, one of my finest eaters
ayy

- glockboyz teejaee cash kidd ot7 quanny lyrics

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