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4 dat money - lil poppa, ytb fatt & cmg the label lyrics

[intro: ytb fatt]
uh, yeah
uh, uh

[chorus: ytb fatt]
ha, i’m in la with the growers (see you going for dog sh*t, n*gga, how many you need?)
n*gga, place your order (or you can get this amount for this amount)
n*gga, n*gga, keep ’em coming
i was gon’ die ’bout this sh*t for free, imagine what i do for that money

[verse 1: ytb fatt]
if you tryna be a around, better have a voucher
i don’t know if you gon’ shoot your pistol for me
when you see me, you gon’ see a smacker
these n*ggas ’round me ready to tie up a woman
bagg say, “stay out the hood, boy, them millions comin'”
six chains on, totin’ a hundred
that little ass money these n*ggas uploaded, i done thumbed through it and spunt it
n*gga, this sh*t on my neck, this sh*t hunchin’, s*x
the sh*t they did i done
n*gga, this sh*t came quick, how? i got foxes across the country
before this deal, you could ask my city
n*gga, i was gettin’ ’em hit before the money
been had the power, now i got the cheese
sh*t ain’t funny
i put this sh*t on they head like a scrunchie
switches, frrt, bump down hundreds
i kept this sh*t on order like a function
the last n*gga just won’t leave my conscious
we made ’em eat that sh*t like the munchies
in my family, i take care of the womans
n*gga, i’ll pay if you hit his tummy
n*gga, i’m cashin’ out whoever done it (frrt)
[verse 2: lil poppa]
if he made the news by sunday, n*gga, you’ll have that sh*t on monday (you’ll have that sh*t on monday)
have them youngins spin that b*tch so many times, they just think i’m giving money out (they just think i’m giving money out)
rich junkie, b*tch, i do this sh*t ’cause i can afford the high (i can afford the high)
broke dummies, why come beef with us? you can’t afford to die (can’t afford it)
up at six am, i’m geekin’ (uh), thirty left to seven (seven)
in here high as h*ll tweakin’, feel like i’m close to heaven (feel like i’m close)
they hit the lights, fire up a black & mild before he say he smell me (before he say he smell me)
tell them n*ggas know that’s me ridin foreign in the city
four choppas in that decoy back there trailing (decoy back there trailing)
fly the b*tch to la, no, this ain’t no vacay, ho, you mailing (yeah, ho, you mailing)
told her once i f*ck, don’t give that sh*t away unless you selling it (unless you selling it)
don’t make my young n*gga k!ll a p*ssy today, right now he celibate (right now)
i’ll self defense a n*gga (uh), don’t forget i ain’t got no felonies (felonies)

[verse 3: lil poppa]
i’ll pull up back street (uh), post up with some grave diggers (grave diggers)
tell them boys, “don’t at me (uh), i ain’t even tryna play with ya” (i ain’t even tryna play with ya)
b*tch pull up at three am (uh), we f*cking, i can’t lay with ya (no, i can’t lay with ya)
soon as i’m done busting (uh, uh), get to trucking, i can’t stay with ya (no, i can’t stay with ya)
glock came with a h*llcat (uh), n*gga, this a dodge pistol (n*gga, this a dodge pistol)
“poppa, where the h*ll ya at?” bet, i ain’t tryna dodge n*ggas (no, i ain’t tryna talk, nah)
rappers talking ’bout “let’s work”, but i can’t lie, i charge n*ggas (i can’t lie, i charge n*ggas)
i can’t lie, i’m scarred (yeah), but them perkies heal my heart (but them perkies heal my heart, b*tch)
they know it ain’t safe out right after dark
[chorus: ytb fatt]
ha, i’m in la with the growers (see you going for dog sh*t, n*gga, how many you need?)
n*gga, place your order (or you can get this amount for this amount)
n*gga, n*gga, keep ’em coming
i was gon’ die ’bout this sh*t for free, imagine what i do for that money

[outro: lil poppa]
uh, uh, ain’t got time neither

- lil poppa ytb fatt cmg the label lyrics

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