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lirik lagu tax season – jungle juice

make room for the big steppa
running sh*t i know it’s hard to catch up
balling out like triple p
i be in the cut where the goons be
lil pricey n*gga i’m choosy
exotic burning through a loose leaf
got the boujee b*tches shaking booty
outside no cable like boosie

floor full of dead presidents
titties out everybody lit
sagging, showing that tool print
got hoes in the bathroom suckin d*ck
living like it’s tax season
might blow sum in neimans
if you drop the ball then i’m keepin
need the check or i’m leaving
coming in the game with that fish scale
scheme wit my n*ggas cause they won’t tell
if you don’t run ya mouth
i’ll put you on
but if you get caught up don’t call my phone
don’t chasing b*tches i chase figures
cheddar cheese and bunny bread n*gga
gang full of stunting ass n*ggas
you ain’t hustlin i can’t f*ck witcha

getting money we hood rich
rock designer on chill sh*t
poppin bottles we too lit
bad b*tches all thru the vip
get a hustle and tap in
this for them n*ggas flippin packs quick
going hard doing n*ggas greasy
all summer
tax season

n*ggas don’t want drama and i put that on my mama
i been spitting like a llama
and i’m chasing mo commas
get it hotter den a sauna
if he play he a goner
you can get if you wanna
i won’t let em get the one up
moving work get em locked in
don’t sweat nun i got options
i’m the bar you gotta top this
fresh as h*ll the feds watching
black runtz in the dark stout
one call to bring the dogs out
yo sh*t quiet my sh*t loud
move wit action no word of mouth
make sh*t happen like magic
show these lil n*ggas how to really cut cabbage
since a jit i ain’t never gave average
prices up tell these n*ggas we taxin
racks all on my cash card
in the city with some bad broads
feel me through the condom
im too raw
drippin on n*ggas like hot sauce
i ain’t a rapper this is hip hop
you might be top tier
but im tip top
sh*tting in em when my sh*t drop
ima keep thumbing til the money stop
shout out to my scammers, the bad b*tches wit no manners, the n*ggas counting money in the trap, the real n*ggas who ain’t gotta cap
shout to my boss n*ggas, the baddest strippers that’ll make you tip ha, the booster , and them robbin n*ggas
get money it’s that simple

- jungle juice

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