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dont talk money - damedot lyrics

[intro]
(rell on the track)
(1*800 for you)
are you in the mafia?

[verse 1]
don’t talk money, i’m a n*gga with a lot of that
i got real long paper, b*tch, i ain’t gotta rap
you spendin’ all that money on some drank, you should’ve bought a strap
b*tch think i’m into real estate ’cause i just bought a trap
i was in the zone, i wasn’t thinkin’ ’bout no tv screen
rappin’*ass n*gga, we’d throw him in your limousine
i ain’t chasin’ liquor, but i came with a lemon squeeze
i can’t fit this money i just made in my amiri jeans
b*tch ass so d*mn fat, i’m like, “what the f*ck?”
rims so big, you gotta d*mn near hop up out the truck
n*ggas in milwaukee caught me slippin’, i had to tighten up
gotta bring your friend, i ain’t really into one*on*ones
gotta keep them racks, i’m not really hip to 201s
i’d straight forget a b*tch exist, use her, one and done
i’d spray a b*tch and her friends with some hobegone
hoes say i’m fresh than a b*tch and i just threw this on
bring me all the 19 bottles, we don’t want patrón
i’ve been in miami for six days, i don’t wanna go home
n*gga, i’ma stand on that business like a stepping stone
b*tch say it’s givin’ paranoid, i got the pistol close
[chorus]
my b*tch’ll run a play on a n*gga like a give*and*go
pull up in that rolls, bad b*tch caught the holy ghost
you could see i’m gettin’ money, rain, sleet, snow, sunny
it ain’t even been a whole month and i done made a hundred

[verse 2]
b*tch, is you tryna have some fun and make two, three hundred?
we pulled up in two foreigns, y’all back to back in two, three hundreds
light day chillin’, and i got on like two, three hundred
she left the club with me, now dummy man can’t find his woman
damedot racks, b*tch, i’m more richer than your husband
more turnter than your cousin, more player than your uncle
five bad b*tches in my bed, this a royal rumble
if i put the cog on that boy, they gon’ do somethin’ to him
come here, pretty b*tch, let a real n*gga do somethin’ to you
rgs the five*letter fam, b*tch, get with the movement
have a b*tch drunk, clear kayakin’ somewhere in aruba
i can put your toes in the sand and it’s all inclusive
drank goin’ up every day, i need another quart
ballin’ ’bout to turn into a crime, i need another sport
i can’t stash the racks in this marble, i need another floor
i ain’t satisfied with just one, i need another wh0re
bring me all the don juli’ bottles, we don’t want no rose
i’ve been in detroit for two days and i’m ready to go
b*tch tryna kick it, but i said this ain’t no field goal
she ain’t even asked me for no pape’, but she a real ho
[chorus]
my b*tch’ll run a play on a n*gga like a give*and*go
pull up in that rolls, bad b*tch caught the holy ghost
you could see i’m gettin’ money, rain, sleet, snow, sunny
it ain’t even been a whole month and i done made a hundred

- damedot lyrics

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