Tonart: D minor
Verse 1
under they candy
Think like molasses, god damn it,
take it for granted
Whip is a classic, tight like elastic
Pull out they wagon and get to sliding through Dallas,
Like how the trunk beat in the seats,
but like a mattress
Fly back home,
All this started because a
bitch like in my caddy
Unless I got work,
then I'm gettin' chauffeured by a ratchet
Blue Impala,
She got her license
and we done updated the
tags and
Bottles of coupe, they sayin' weezy,
got that bad shit
One hit of this and you done
No less than 20,
In a box full of matches,
they ain't playin' if they catch ya
Give off this money,
it's like I'm caught up in a rapture
Everything round me turn into green,
Smilin', sit back,
cause lil' willin' action
Spittin' it for them niggas
that grind with a passion
Nine on dimes and I ain't
talkin' bout a bad bitch
Dollars text the new definition
for daddies
Bounce back like magic,
Find you a plug or do some
out -of -town taxin'
Niggas on some upper hand shit
Be bout this money
Buy yourself,
cause Lil' Wilt and Upton Vanders
to hold another section
My brother want Bentley's
and my mama want travel
I'm gettin' madder,
And up in the scale for the city,
they call Dallas
Get your money up
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