lirik lagu mo money no problems – zayy don dada
[intro]
dig what i’m sayin’ b*tch, it’s don dada in this b*tch f.a.d. sh*t forever a don sh*t n*gga you already know what it is b*tch
[verse 1]
let me light this pressure before i get to talkin’ my sh*t
these n*ggas keep on talkin’ ’bout me, think they lost they sh*t
they keep on d*ck ridin’ suckin’ d*ck back to back
these b*tches got a lot to say but i be seein’ they lil tracks
mo’ money mo’ problems, b*tch i gotta lotta gwala
the n*gga got done beat up in the party, dirt up on his collar
b*tch i’m praying for a hundred summers and a hundred hummers
she was hatin’ before now she tryna get beat up out her bundles
bad b*tch top me
treat a n*gga so good i call her bae
got too many eyes on me
might invest up inna k
b*tch i’m ballin’ like i’m stephen from the trey, b*tch we gon run the j
freak ole b*tch gon top me anyway no matter what i say
finger f*ck the dollars
my hoes say i be doin’ the most
they say i be givin’ em good d*ck, left on delivered, then i be goin’ ghost
don dada been spittin’ like a lil choppa
the money be keepin’ me geeked like crocker
after we done i’m gon oop her to the gang cus we been knew she was a boppa
n*ggas cappin’ and rappin’ bout sh*t they never did (uh)
grab that lil hen rock and crack em in his head (uh)
b*tch my dog might just bend your block and fill you up wit lead (uh)
ain’t see them n*ggas outside in a minute, think they scared
hatin’ ass n*ggas make me nauseous (sick)
live like it’s your last but still gon have to move cautious
she don’t even give me tips but i’m gon keep servin’ like a waiter
she gon top me in the kitchen, bend her over the counter then i break her
why she gotta sneak dis me on snapchat?
must want some d*ck up in her
swervin’ in that car i might get matte black
promise i’ll be home for dinner
she like, “zayy please stop”
baby i told you i don’t believe in breaks/brakes
he was selling that re*rock
got caught up with the feds now he sitting up in states
once its up its stuck i hop out let it fry and let it bake
i didn’t even wrote this b*tch i might just owe the b*tch, i might decode the b*tch
ballin’ out i got my team ready, think i’m popovich
my n*gga reggie keep his head steady he might just pop a b*tch
(haha)
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