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lirik lagu thinkin rich – fmb dz

[intro]
hmm
yeah man the fmb way man
that fast money way
fast motherf-ckin’ money
we don’t think the same
we don’t talk the same
we don’t walk the same n-gga, huh, no
you thinkin’
n-gga i’m thinkin’
you thinkin’
n-gga i’m thinkin’, hey
n-gga i’m thinkin’ rich
n-gga you thinkin’ poor (yeah)
i got up off my -ss and i kicked out the door (yeah)

[verse]
i’m thinkin’ vettes (vettes)
i’m thinkin’ porsche (porsche)
i like them lamborghinis, i f-ck with the horse
we hit his block (yeah), knock him off the porch
i told my b-tch, “roll up the window, put this b-tch in sport”
you know i’m back at it (back at it)
b-tch i got bad habits (bad habits)
i like to live lavish (yeah)
i’m never lit average (naw)
i got m’s stackin, f i make ’em stand backwards (yeah)
everything i spit be fire, i’m a real dragon
i ain’t always get it
i ain’t always have it
i couldn’t always flip it
i couldn’t always stash it
i drop out of school
i couldn’t get my masters (yeah)
now we racing coupes tryna see which one’s the fastest (yeah)
if i point, he gon’ shoot, we don’t give no p-sses
if they get tipped, them b-tches gone, we don’t get back no gl-sses (they gone)
your label’s calling back to back, them b-tches keep har-ssin’ (leave me alone)
once my foot got on the gas, b-tch i started mashin’
my b-tch want her body done, my mama want an aston (that aston)
my little sis want a boutique and b-tch i want imagine (imagine)
my side b-tch want a baby but i can’t chance it (nah)
can’t have no baby by no sl-t, freak b-tch dancing (dancing)
my chain like a sl-t freak b-tch, it keep dancin’ (it’s magic)
i got my eyes on this freak b-tch, she keep glancin’ (yeah)
i got my eyes on n-ggas too, they keep lookin’ (ooh)
they try to black boy the kid but they keep bookin’ (ooh)
i told scuba, “keep dancin’, they can keep shinin'” (yeah)
we gon’ get that big bag as long as we keep grindin’ (grindin’)
and we got them ars with the monkey nuts
8 ball brewing in his cell, waking his bunkie up
young dog at the spot early, workin’ the junkies up (yeah)
catch a n-gga while he leavin’ church, we don’t give a f-ck (naw)
put the barrel in granny mouth or make him give it up
n-gga still might get shot when you give it up
dead men can’t say sh-t, tell ’em dig ’em up (yeah)
we might spin around the block and watch ’em pick ’em up
these n-ggas claimin’ that they real but they ain’t real as us (naw)
b-tch i just threw my bag and i zipped it up (yeah)

[outro]
i’m thinkin’ rich
n-gga you thinkin’ poor
i got up off my -ss and i kicked out the door
we hit his block, knock him off the porch
i told my b-tch, “roll up the window, put this b-tch in sport”

- fmb dz

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