money spread (intro) - lil mojoe lyrics
[chorus]
yeah, stacking up the guap
time moves so slow i swear sometimes i do need a clock
i’m cooking in the stu’ now i do feel like i’m betty croc
no ufc i punch my opps and make they heads rock
like burger king, just bought a grill i’m ready to fry my opps in dust
the bread, the money, the bread and the cheese, the pizza i’m getting the crust
counting these dead presidents youd think i got a hitlist
ima show up to the party and shut it down like craig’s list
[verse 1]
hater talking behind my back
aaron donald get a sack
i just spent my last rack
i carry around a baseball bat but no i do not have a mac
doing laps around these other rappers i think i run track
i just bought some double cs i feel like i’m in mariokart
scooting through the mall, just like i’m paul blart
i’m the best artist and my raps are a work of art
make opponents jump, false start
[chorus]
yeah, stacking up the guap
time moves so slow i swear sometimes i do need a clock
i’m cooking in the stu’ now i do feel like i’m betty croc
no ufc i punch my opps and make they heads rock
like burger king, just bought a grill i’m ready to fry my opps in dust
the bread, the money, the bread and the cheese, the pizza i’m getting the crust
counting these dead presidents youd think i got a hitlist
ima show up to the party and shut it down like craig’s list
[verse 2]
i have a snow white complexion and seven cars
feel like i’m in prison the way i’ve been spittin bars
but young mojoe never go to jail, my dawgs will pay the bail
riding through the city in the wagon like the oregon trail
my pockets overweight, because they eating cheesecake
i may have switched your meds, got a stomach ache?
hold up, i just bought a porsche with no mileage
i want a couple rocks to hang from my cartilage
[chorus]
yeah, stacking up the guap
time moves so slow i swear sometimes i do need a clock
i’m cooking in the stu’ now i do feel like i’m betty croc
no ufc i punch my opps and make they heads rock
like burger king, just bought a grill i’m ready to fry my opps in dust
the bread, the money, the bread and the cheese, the pizza i’m getting the crust
counting these dead presidents youd think i got a hitlist
ima show up to the party and shut it down like craig’s list
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