lirik lagu al shid - m.a.t.h. (money and then hoes)
i don’t love ya, i don’t need ya
i just f-ck ya, don’t expect me to feed ya
f-ck that, they love the fat ‘shid drawl
they stay down like sumos on children’s see-saws
what you hate me for? y’all made me this way
if you was really about your chips
you’d know that b-tches are frito-lay
hey homes, use your dome when she ask you for cash
money and then hoes, n-gga, master your math
do i need to teach a cl-ss on how to handle your dough?
how to f-ck ’em, duck ’em, give nothing to scandalous hoes?
one thing you should know if you think about stackin’
putting your b-tches before riches is considered subtraction
haven’t you heard about the principle
f-ck a b-tch, get a grip, stack your chips
? are reciprocal, n-gga
f-ck if she’s into you, she’s into your integers
trying to hold numbers, don’t trust her, n-gga she’s tripping you
you’d be a fool to commit to her
she marry your dough, cause when she’s splittin’
it’s division and she’ll carry the one
yo, cash give a n-gga hope
-ss leave a n-gga broke
stash, man there’s nothing to it
man, i’ll show you how to do it
my momma always wanted me to be a mathematician
so now i tally up the numbers of the b-tches i’m dissin’
they didn’t listen when i told ’em, look, i’m broke but be patient
but when i bubble b-tches double, sh-t, that’s multiplication
see how i’m making all these statements into something astounding
all equations and relationships of hoes i’ve encountered
i’ve always been well rounded just trying to bust a nut
but now the diameter of my pie got ’em screamin “sir, come for us!”
what the f-ck’s up with these stank hoes, got em on they knees
at 45 degrees thinking she’s in a cute angle.
tryin to get at my bankroll, sh-t
the only time i confront her with numbers
is when i’m giving her the d-ck
tell me quick, sh-t: what’s the biggest length times width
i could stick into your area without causing hysteria?
compared to us, hoes just coniving
they’ll keep you happy till you’re slackin’
with you pimping like bishop don juan in khakis
nappy-headed hussy
must be the paper that you’re after
even if i’m in the billion, sh-t
you’ll never be a factor
sh-t, i have to pay to play? somebody got you g-ssed!
p-ssy’s parallel to paper, that sh-t never crossin’ paths
do the math
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