| Band
|
| Yuh
|
| Yuh
|
| Yuh-yuh, yuh, yuh (Let the band play)
|
| Ayy, I'm runnin' to the money, you know how I'm comin'
|
| Monday 'til Sunday night, be thumbin', thumbin', thumbin'
|
| Got this bad bitch wit a onion and she got her own money
|
| She say money keep her comin', but I keep them commas comin'
|
| Yeah, yuh, another check again
|
| I be killin' shit, lord forgive me for my sins
|
| Yeah, my wrist cost a 'Rari and my earrings cost a Benz
|
| And my bitch is a Barbie, my name Key and not Ken
|
| When I fired up my blunt, they like "Who fuck broke the wind?"
|
| Double up my cup, I sip lean, not gin
|
| I be high as fuck, it feel like my head spinnin'
|
| But no, I ain't spendin' no time wit these bitches
|
| Hell nah, give me head, keep your draws, yeah-yeah
|
| Big dawg, I don't know 'bout y'all, yeah-yeah
|
| Bling-blaow, jewelry game Niagara Falls, yeah-yeah
|
| Stack it tall, money in the floor and wall, uh, uh, yuh
|
| One to the two to the three and to the four
|
| Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin' dough
|
| Ready to make a entrance where my backend, bruh?
|
| Because you know I'm 'bout to turn shit up
|
| I told her throw that ass back so I can bust it like a bubble
|
| South Memphis nigga in this bitch, yeah, you know you in trouble
|
| Ain't nuthin but a P thang, baby
|
| Young iced-out nigga going crazy
|
| Paper Route is the label that pays me
|
| Unplayable so please don't try to play me
|
| Know what I'm sayin? |
| Uh, yeah, bitch, I'm the man
|
| Before you talk raise up your hand, yuh
|
| I been runnin' it up, these niggas just been runnin' errands, uh
|
| How you screamin' Crip and Blood and ain't been to the land? |
| What?
|
| Hold up, dog pound, you's a mutt, you need to scram, yeah
|
| You know how I get down, money talks, you hear me loud
|
| Yeah I know you hear me loud, I be countin' like
|
| One to the two to the three and to the four
|
| Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin' dough
|
| Ready to make a entrance where my backend, bruh?
|
| Because you know I'm 'bout to turn shit up
|
| Yeah, turn it up, uh, bitch, I'm the shit, givin' niggas bubble guts
|
| Yeah, every whip in my crib, it go two-hundred plus
|
| Except my yellow short bus, that's my Rolls-Royce truck
|
| Yeah, I be going nuts, nigga, I be going dumb (Dummy)
|
| Dumber, thumbin' through the numbers
|
| Run up (Run it up, run it up), run up if you wanna
|
| Chopstick on me, bitch, I eat you like a tuna
|
| Young niggas wit me, they'll eat you like piranha
|
| I wonder why these niggas be hatin', yuh
|
| Lord knows I really got balls, shootin' like the navy, yuh
|
| Big loud foreign toy wakin' up my neighbors, uh
|
| They like "Where you going Glock?"
|
| I'm going to get some paper, yeah
|
| One to the two to the three and to the four
|
| Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin' dough
|
| Ready to make a entrance where my backend, bruh?
|
| Because you know I'm 'bout to turn shit up
|
| One to the two to the three and to the four
|
| One to the two to the three and to the four
|
| One to the two to the three and to the four
|
| Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin' dough
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, 'bout his motherfuckin' dough
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, 'bout his motherfuckin' dough
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, Glizzock |