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ova my money - yung trashi lyrics

[intro]
bro all n*ggas wanna do with my money is f*cking play with it
like bro i’m not tryna hear that sh*t bro, i’m tryna get my f*cking bag bro
if you motherf*ckers standing in my way, you can get the f*ck on
bruh deadass bruh
i’m tryna get my f*cking bread and get the f*ck on
like* like f*ck is you talking about
deadass

[verse 1: trashi]
b*tch i ain’t hearing you over my money
b*tch do you think this sh*t funny?
cash is just filling my luggage, it’s busting the seams and you know that b*tch busting the b*ttons
h*lla bands all in my pockets, it’s flooded
b*tch, i been stepping on jewels like my feet was just studded
walk in the bank like i run it
rings on my hand, i be feeling like sonic
rip a n*gga up no chainsaw man
shorty said she wanna get down and dance
never love a hoe if shе ain’t about bands
all of my hoes they be scamming
b*tch i’m a god so you can’t touch my hand
feeling likе jotaro, i got a stand
you n*ggas lame if you still popping xans
my n*ggas they catch you they send you to heaven
f*ck what you talm’ bout, i need my loot
my hair is the color, the name of that fruit
if you play with my money, my n*ggas gone shoot cause you get blowed down like a you a flute, yeah
my money a tree and i stay near the root
if it ain’t bout the gualla then you get the boot
my choppa got fn tips and you know that sh*t blue
they hitting yo’ skin and they going straight through
never need a b*tch or n*gga telling me what i got going on, b*tch make a song
you was only in the posse cause you look was kinda saucy
if a n*gga come back just know he a p*wn
i never beef with these n*ggas, no sh*t
all of these blues in my jeans, it dont fit
making this blue , b*tch, i can never quit
if you not my money, i’m not hearing you over it
[verse 2: gmg maydok]
lil’ bad ass b*tch and she by my side
and she not my main, yes, she is my side
and i’m not with the fuss, i’m not tryna fight
she heard i got money now she wanna slide through
they thought i was crip, the way that my money blue
you shopping at ross, we shopping at jimmy chu
what you just bought, yeah, gang we had it too
put trust in no hoe, put trust in the racks
lean in my cup while i count up these stacks
play with the posse, like a @, you get tagged
extendo clip, 30 shots in the mag
i was smoking that dwai
can’t even cap, this pack got me high
b*tch i am soaring, i’m high as a kite
and i can’t even see, this mic got a sight
smith and wesson keep that sh*t f*cking tucked
reach for my money, i let that sh*t up
chop up his body, put that sh*t in the trunk
you play with my money lil boy, is you dumb?
you a r*t*rd
behind you back, key yo’ girl like a guitar
d*mn i’m so high, i can see mars
we known for the fashion, we just rock g*star
making the money, making them blues
put his ass on the screen, put that boy on the news
hungry for the win, b*tch, i can never lose
these b*tches be hating, they pray on my downfall
can never back down on these b*tches, i stood tall
pull up in the kitchen like we making coleslaw
if a opp try to reach, shoot the boy, i got quickdraw
(get that sh*t winta!)

[verse 3: inwintr]
number (n)ine jean with the rick on me, hoe
sippin’ on wock, slow
she wanna f*ck, yeah, i know
these n*ggas keep tryna play me like a hoe
i’m up in that trap, i swear i’ll let it go
i was stuck in that trap, i pour another four
no, you not my friend, n*gga, you a foe
i get too hot like a ufo
i get too high, i’m touching the sky
b*tch i’m the realest, i’m never not
yeah, i’m on the beat, lil boy, i glide
you on my d*ck like sh*t, i don’t know you, why
say i’m a b*tch, i don’t know that guy
count up the racks, yeah, i’m doing mine
maison margelia on me
maison mihara on me
she wanna suck on dis d*ck
i tell that hoe get me lit
i tell that hoe give the neck and go
he stealing my flow, if you know, you know
i feel that lil air, it’s lil winta cold
i’m going up, vertical
like why would you lie on my name?
like why do you want to feel the same?
and i’m like bye
yeah, i know that hoe is a saint
yeah, who is the one to blame
yeah, i’m still stacking up the chains, yea!
i’m still counting up the money
n*ggas be thinking sh*t funny, i swear it ain’t sweet
bad lil b*tch suck my meat
walking around with this glock in my jeans
g*star jeans, i’m on some g*star things
i’m on some better things
like please test your pedigree
you cannot mess with me
you cannot step to me
[outro: trashi]
you cannot step to us
you know what we on
momma just told us that we gotta make it so we gotta show her the funds
we getting money, we making the money, the money so dumb
n*ggas is bummed
not hearing you over my money cause lil b*tch just shut the f*ck up yea!

- yung trashi lyrics

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