lirik lagu ya feel me – key glock
[intro]
(bandplay)
uh, ayy
[chorus 1]
money comin’, money goin’
b*tches, b*tches, hoes, hoes
south memphis n*gga, nine foreigns
sneak dissin,’ ain’t no time for it
hood rich, rockin’ tom ford, baby choppa like 5’4
count guap, it got my thumbs sore
copped another watch ’cause i was bored (yeah)
i got money runnin’ through my pores
yeah i’m up, but i want some more
yeah i’m up, check the scoreboard, i get money like it was a chore (lil’ b*tch)
[post*chorus]
i got voices in my head, keep on sayin’ “boy, let’s get it”
i got b*tches on my d*ck, and i got n*ggas in my business
i got wock wock in my kidneys and i p*ss all on your feelin’s
i got the double r truck now i want the one with no cеilings (ya feel me?)
[verse 1]
i been gettin’ so much money, don’t know what to do with it
i been countin’ so much monеy my head just start spinnin’
and speakin’ of spinnin’, my young n*gga just did it
no cap, i’m ballin’ out, they like “glock, you wicked”
i been sippin’ so much wock, like motherf*ck my kidneys
i just pulled up in a yellow schoolbus, but no kids in it
courtside on the floor, sippin’ on a four, watchin’ the grizzlies
[bridge]
money comin’, money goin’, got rich off of streams and tourin’
yeah, ballin’ like the final four, got b*tches tryna make a p*rn
ex b*tch talkin’ ’bout she torn, had to leave on her like a forest
think about money when i yawn, yeah, some of mine every mornin’ (b*tch)
[verse 2]
i jump up out the bed, gettin’ to the bread, middle fingers to the feds (yuh)
pay you in the red, choppas on your head, now a n*gga is (shh)
i ain’t gotta say it, why would i say it? n*ggas know i ain’t playin’ (yuh)
i’m already playin’ with her bag, i ain’t playin’ ’round with them (n*gga)
i barely trust my fam’, n*gga, i pull up they’re like “d*mn,” n*gga
hundred racks on a ram, n*gga, in the choppa with a hundred rounds, n*gga
yeah the choppa little but it sound bigger, these n*gga hoes just sound k!lla
can’t get to steppin’ like pam, n*gga (yeah, yeah, yeah)
[chorus 2]
money comin’, money goin’
b*tches, b*tches, hoes, hoes
south memphis n*gga, nine foreigns
sneak dissin,’ ain’t no time for it
hood rich, rockin’ tom ford, baby choppa like 5’4
count guap, it got my thumbs sore
copped another watch ’cause i was bored (lil’ b*tch)
[post*chorus]
i got voices in my head, keep on sayin’ “boy, let’s get it”
i got b*tches on my d*ck, and i got n*ggas in my business
i got wock wock all in my kidneys and i p*ss all on your feelin’s
i got the double r truck now i want the one with no ceilings (ya feel me?)
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