Uh

Uh, uh, uh, uh Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah Uh, uh, uh, uh Uh, uh, uh, uh Count up, count up, count up, stay doubling my amount up, ‘mount up I had to get close with my bag, so I can hop in that push start with my dad Stay fresh to death when I murder, on my magic shit Timmy Turner I’m a quick study, I’m a learner, ran that check up quick, I got burners F*ck is you talking ‘bout, money I’m all about getting that bag I’m the man I’m so fly and so clean that they gotta make sure that the floor is mopped when I land Count up a band now it’s cheese on my hand, man I’m too hot get the fan You stay online stalking on all of my shit, guess what bitch you a fan Don’t care what you talking about cause I run to the check while you running your mouth Came straight out of Harlem to Dallas Cymatics, I’m good on the north and the south I get to my money, you haters so funny, to think That you thought you were ever above me Sending that hate on the daily, you love me Don’t care about you, cause this pay is so lovely Uh, uh, uh, uh Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah Uh, uh, uh, uh Uh, uh, uh, uh I do what I do I don’t care about you, I’m getting this money and so is my crew We all about good and we spreading the truth Don’t care 'bout no car only need about two They think we some crips, cause we covered in blue I’ma just inform you that those rumors aren’t true I done spit to much think I’m done for the day, I’ma end it off like my nigga M.A, Oou Uh, uh, uh, uh Uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah Uh, uh, uh, uh Uh, uh, uh, uh