lirik lagu money callin’ (ft. trezmane & yung deco) – ji beats
[intro]
all these n*ggas be buggin’. asking me for sh*t, asking me for handouts, asking me for sauce, asking how to do this, asking how to do that. n*gga, f*ck off my sh*t. you ain’t getting sh*t. you gotta give me 500. i need 500 at least, and it’s another 500 after that, cuz i didn’t get the first payment, & then another 500, & then another
[hook]
oh sh*t, its the money callin’
bands dropping too the floor, they just keep fallin’
spending racks everyday, & ima keep ballin’
left the scale at home, gotta eye ball it
feds knocking on the wrong door, i got a vpn
another ssn, had to make another cpn
n*gga you ain’t vip, n*gga you can’t get in
five racks on my fit b*tch, i don’t fit in
wearing palm angels еveryday, but i keep sinning
new dumps evеryday, god d*mn, them sh*ts be hitting
you ain’t got no real vendor that’s why your sh*t be missing
i tried to teach my ex b*tch but she ain’t wanna listen
i just picked up a pack, i don’t even know the strain
got some head from a groupie, i don’t even know her name
i’m high and poured up, d*mn, swerving in every lane
finessed a n*gga out his sh*t, he was new to the game
i could tell that n*gga ain’t on nun, i could tell he was lame
god d*mn i’m dozing off, i don’t know what i’m saying
i’m sippin’ on some tech, hmm, gotta put it in some sprite
these 5.56’s go through your body, take your life
i see stars in my whip even when it’s not night
i got my shooter to the side so there’s no need to fight
my n*ggas gon’ slide even when they know it’s not right
they pull up 30 round clip, & a red dot sight
trap door like taco tuesday, lined outside, it looks like (?)
send sh*lls, knock the beef out that boy burrito
& take that money like its nachos (not yours)
i’m bout’ my cheese like cheetos
b*tch shut the f*ck up, i know you see me on the phone money callin’
i wake up everyday just to flex on broke n*ggas, my main hobby
wake up everyday just to ball on n*ggas change my name to
play for keeps, i’m ball hogging (?)
wake up everyday, put that sh*t on, d*mn i’m fresh as f*ck
true religion with the gl!ck on me, come & test your luck
swerving foreigns, bending corners, my main hobby
getting money, the other hobby, leave a broke hoe in the d*mn lobby
i’m on dnd lil b*tch, sorry
(?) that b*tch salty
my whip came with a remote control like atari
d*mn i dress better than a barbie
man i’m high as the f*ck, i could free fall
parachute better match my drawls
told em’ kiss my ass, i’m ballin’
money on my wrist, a faucet
[hook]
oh sh*t, its the money callin’
bands dropping too the floor, they just keep fallin’
spending racks everyday, & ima keep ballin’
left the scale at home, gotta eye ball it
feds knocking on the wrong door, i got a vpn
another ssn, had to make another cpn
n*gga you ain’t vip, n*gga you can’t get in
five racks on my fit b*tch, i don’t fit in
wearing palm angels everyday, but i keep sinning
new dumps everyday, god d*mn, them sh*ts be hitting
you ain’t got no real vendor that’s why your sh*t be missing
i tried to teach my ex b*tch but she ain’t wanna listen
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