joesin - moneymarr lyrics
(hook)
he gon’ (?) out his top, its okay we got choppas for n*ggas that speakin on sh*t that we do
we gon’ air out his car send him right to the stars and im askin that n*gga how he like to do
the (?) cut up with the kid i got locked i was (?) in the (?) im just like some glue
when we sendin’ that fire, dont ask who it is b*tch you know gun squad coming through
(verse 1)
go cop 16 packs montana
jugg when its cold out, trap sh*t, glock in the coat
see the (?), choppas get stuffed in the snow
ima step on b*tch, give a f*ck if he tote
and she (?) the d*ck, i be breaking her throat
got drip off*white all white, pope
pop pants like cans, sprite, coke
got a shooter with braids, yachty, boat
he dissin this sh*t can get technical
spin with them sticks send his ass to the medical
all our chops got a switch and it came with the reticles
i got so many b*tches this sh*t like a festival
smokin’ (?) dont f*ck with the edibles
in that maybach b*tch, come and suck on my t*st*cl*s
when i walk in the trap sh*t can look skeptical
or im sending a hit call up draco he stretching you
(hook)
he gon’ (?) out his top, its okay we got choppas for n*ggas that speakin on sh*t that we do
we gon’ air out his car send him right to the stars and im askin that n*gga how he like to do
the (?) cut up with the kid i got locked i was (?) in the (?) im just like some glue
when we sendin’ that fire, dont ask who it is b*tch you know gun squad coming through
(verse 2)
80 racks in the trap, victor, cruz
send a hit he get shot, and put on the news
what you spend on yo ring, yeah i spend on my (?)
is you gon’ hop in a jetta or hop in a cruise (lets go, lets go)
got a glock 18, n*gga thats (?)
b*tch leave me alone, green, (?)
on the interstate hittin’ 100, no racing
and we really got clips, no (?)
tryna (?), no that sh*t unacceptable
hittin’ kids when you shoot man that sh*t ain’t respectable
i was locked in a cell, did it with the correctional’s
know some n*ggas with bodies, they really went federal
take a trip to the islands, im talkin bout panama
we send a hit for a 50, they k!llin your mini you
we spin again till we dizzy, them drac bullets hittin’ you
i like them 20s, and 50s, but play with them pretty boo’s
(hook)
he gon’ (?) out his top, its okay we got choppas for n*ggas that speakin on sh*t that we do
we gon’ air out his car send him right to the stars and im askin that n*gga how he like to do
the (?) cut up with the kid i got locked i was (?) in the (?) im just like some glue
when we sendin’ that fire, dont ask who it is b*tch you know gun squad coming through
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