Yeah, my bitch she bunkin'
She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga

(I don't know if you know how it feel
To ride down Sunset, watching the sunset
California, Los Angeles nigga, what's happenin' though?)
My bitch grind
My boo not know I'm thugging, from the Slums
She know I'm in the streets, she hold my guns
Ain't seen my P.O. in weeks
Fuck it months
Told her hold my spot down I'm on the run
I got my motherfucking J's on
Finna hit Arkansas get these OXYs off
Come back to L.A., fight my case
Where I'm from it's bang or ball
Fucking bitches like yo misses
Flip em' like the case of raw
Back to business flipping digits
Splitting switches with my niggas
Came from nothing, from nothing to something
Know my struggle, my momma know I'm thugging
Coming out the county jail smell like public
Yo momma love it, got your main bitch
On my side on time, nigga my bitch she bunkin'

She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga

Now don't it feel great
When you ride through the hood when you known as Bill Gates
With a super bad bitch in a drop Lamborghini
Make a home girl hate
Just a trap nigga known to have a quarter-mill a day
Living proof that selling drugs on the corner still pay
I make a hundred Gs, spend 40 on ki's
Put the rest away just in case I caught a real case
And I ain't gon' stop
Teaching you the shit that you ain't know about
From aside when I rhymed thinkin' ain't no Glock
Stop cuffing that bitch, like she ain't no thot
Racks on the air, think it ain't gonna drop
Even if not, bet the brain on fire
Nigga 14 years I remain on fire
Men with me too, but the game don't lie
Still up to the same old shit
Bang on the pussy nigga they ain't know shit
Stop playing with the pussy you know you dont want this
Shot the fuck down or yo ass gon get it
In public, it's nothing
I'm right back in my bucket
Ain't what you do it's how you does it and we does it cuzin

Yeah, my bitch she bunkin'
She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga

Make me harder, miss your daughter
She just wanna lay and party
Be my naughty girl in college
Fuck you all the time, I'm tired
Wake up on it, this that early morning tap that wet, wet
You know a nigga love breakfast, Imma bite that
Got money in the mattress, where I hide it at
Counting all of that, fuck all them other niggas
They don't know what to do with all that
That's a matter fact, get on my lap
Put you on the map, took you out the trap
From my condo to a large estate, got double gates
If I catch a case would you wait on me
And build me up again, if so

Yeah my niggas thuggin'
Poppin' rubber-bands
Money in my hand, double cuppin'
With that Sprite mix it with Zan
We some Zombies here to tonight, slow motion yo bitch choosin'
She said "don't they call you Breezy?"
I told that bitch "I'm coolin'"
100 million dollars, got a hundred on my chain
She got a million dollar body, with a hundred dollar brain
Yeah your booty like a pumpkin

And my bitch she be bunkin'

My bitch she bunkin'
She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN, CLIFFORD JOSEPH HARRIS, DAVID DORMAN, JAMES STEWART, JAY CUMMINGS, JESS REED JACKSON, MICHAEL STEVENSON