(WebbMadeThis)
(Sonny rollin' grams of wax)

My plate so full nigga
You can say that two times
The goal was to make 50 bands
I done did that a few times
I'm 25 four times
Bitch I'm 50, 2 times
2 Times say he don't shoot cribs
Chop sticks he don't even suit 9's
300 hundreds on me
She gon' see this and be lit
I hit the horn and keep going
'Cause you niggas ain't talkin' 'bout shit
I sat my whole circle down
Like nigga, we gotta rich
Like nigga, we gotta get icy
We just can't fall in love with this shit
After we had that talk, them niggas ain't stop working
I am in love with with Tinashe
I can't wait to see to her in person
I can't wait to see if she loyal
Can't wait to see if she a squirter
For you niggas that can't wait to rob me
I got niggas that can't wait to murder
King T, I am your highness
Niggas don't wanna take it to violence
The same way I act out in public
Is the same way I act while in private
I can not go to the club
If I can't get in with my fire
And 30 bottles of the finest
And watch the money get to flyin'

Like hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, hol' up, hol' up, catch it
Like hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, hol' up, hol' up, catch it
Run off with it, we gon' catch 'em
Pray for the opps and bless they man's restin'
Caught the bag at breakfast, it's gone and still breakfast
Rob my mans and gave it back, stupid, we still stretched 'em

When I wanna talk about nothing
Take me a lil' break from the money
I'ma come holla at y'all
Matter fact, leave me your number
And when I'm tired thumbin' through hunnids
When I'm sick of running up commas
I'ma come see what y'all on, I'ma let your bitch know when I'm coming
These niggas ain't fucking with me
Nigga, that ain't no money to me
Nigga, I blow all of that shit when I go it ain't comin' with me
I was in St. Louis, ain't talkin' Missouri and 2 had a hundred on me
That's the lil' big homie, nigga, touch 'em at 2, you won't make it to 3
I was with all of the shooters when I heard it was money on me
I was around the hitman when I found out it was money on me
Either niggas don't know what they doin', or they scared to go for the kill
We know they know what they doin', them niggas just know what it is, ah

Hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, hol' up, hol' up, catch it
Like hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, catch it
Hol' up, hol' up, hol' up, catch it
Run off with it, we gon' catch 'em
Pray for the opps and bless they man's restin'
Caught the bag at breakfast, it's gone and still breakfast
Rob my mans and gave it back, stupid, we still stretched 'em

(That's hard)
(Yeah, yeah, I fuck with that)
(One hundred)
(Ay, brah, I can't even lie, that's hard)

Copyright: Exploration Group LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Branden Webb, Sonny Corey Uwaezuoke, Terry Wallace