Betttr (feat. Talinwya)

(Kele) (Woo, woo, woo) (Hey) Glock send your ass to heaven, 777 Feeling so angelic I know these motherfucker's jealous I'm wearin' Margielas, I'm doing it better We only wear Chrome if it's Matty My shots automatic, but that doesn't matter, uh All of my bitches are badder, uh All of my pockets are fatter, uh My money be tall like Yao Ming Always chillin just counting the green I'm gonna get it by any means I be hanging with the money team Hangin with the team, counting the blue And the green F*ck you mean I don't think you can hang wit the crew You can leave You can leave Smoking the green I be chillin outside, feel the breeze Score the touch down , Drew Brees I be doin this shit wit a fucking ease So much money feel like I won the lottery Point to the top, cause that's where I'm boutta be I'm in my zone, do not fucking bother me Gonna make it to the throne, that is the prophecy All this money treat it like a commodity F*ck that humble shit, f*ck all the modesty Make it or die trying, that's the policy Fake it or die trying, that's a wannabe Nigga this real life, no Monopoly People be wasting time, that shit bother me Bother me, that shit really fucking bothers me That's a pet peeve, saying it honestly Smoking on the green, smoking that broccoli Shout out to Kodak, no photography Niggas so funny, they're so full of comedy I be chillin with the team like a colony Money on me you might think I'm in secret societies, Niggas always categorizing me Doing it all the time, doing it constantly Yup, I think they're obsessed with me Glock send your ass to heaven, 777 Feeling so angelic I know these motherfucker's jealous I'm wearin' Margielas, I'm doing it better We only wear Chrome if it's Matty My shots automatic, but that doesn't matter, uh All of my bitches are badder, uh All of my pockets are fatter, uh Yeah, yeah My pockets are fatter I stack out the bread with the letters Why I'm talking something with David Letterman Why I'm popping music shit, they let me in Got a hoe, I f*ck, she got a better friend All the homies poppin', singing hella field Brought the drake in the car, and F&M Tell them come with me, Kele, my fucking twin She gon' blow me up just like the wind, uh, wind, ayy, wind