I'm in love with getting money, counting money
I got a fetish
Everything busts down
Looking better than her age
Mr. Quarterback run the plate, throw a touchdown and catch it
Did you catch it?
Coming through these blues like I'm on the phone
Texting in love with getting money, counting money
I got a fetish
Just know I hit the road, I'm finessing
If not, I'm stacking on the block like Tetris
It's a quarter past, no time for no flicks
And the whole city know me, just not only in my section
Bitch looking lost, so I gave her directions
I check traps, she give me head and bag like some letters
I name her Wendy cause she white, bitch red-headed
No heels, hit the blade, bring me cheddar cheese and wedges
Must be slow off that ball if you don't get it
Or you might just be a nerd, you'll anyway, so forget it
I always knew when I was young, I was destined
To be a real nigga from beginning to the ending
So think a nigga pussy, boy, you kidding
If I let this thing blow, that's for sure
You gon' get it
I be thumbing through these blues like I'm on the phone texting
I'm in love with getting money, counting money
I got a fetish
Everything busts down
Looking better than her edgy
I'm here for the quarterback, run the plate
Throw a touchdown and catch it
Did you catch it?
I be thumbing through these blue notes like a jazz legend
Louisiana seafood and turn the face to crab dishes
I know you want your supper product
Gotta get it
The morning stretches
Doc say you fine and wheelin' but the shots wouldn't let em
My watch boom and my chain disrespected
That all chrome nine, all you see is my reflection
I'm folding noodles in the pipe like Mavs trying to stretch em
I'm surveillance cameras, police scanners searching, trying to catch one
Big drum, fried breasts like pot pies
Been sitting on this rack for a week like hot fries
These lil' niggas livin' fiction, all sci-fi
NASA rockets launchin' off, leavin' niggas sky high
All the ground fall from under you, it's a hell slide
Them shells comin' out the barrel like snail signs
Leave a hole in the wall like a lunch pelt size
Leavin' down as a shooter, my game almost 12
I be thumbing through these blues like I'm on the phone textin'
I'm in love with gettin' money, countin' money, I got a fetish
Everything bustin', lookin' better than her edges
I'm here for the quarterback, run the plate
Throw a touchdown and catch it
Did you catch it?
Did you catch it?
Did you catch it?