lirik lagu baby money - the water
[intro]
woah, woah
yeah
(you aren’t even a cool breeze for my man taz)
[verse 1]
now it’s some n~ggas i don’t know that’s gon’ blitz for us (no face, no case)
i sip the drank so much, i think i need a sippy cup
just gave me head, what the f~ck you tried to kiss me for? (d~mn, d~mn)
grabin’ your sh~t, i called the lyft, woah, woah
shut up, b~tch, i hit your friend, now you mad at me (now you mad at me)
the smell take over the van, we gotta glad wrap it
everyday another ten, check the mathematics
talk a b~tch right up her out panties, then stab at it (come here, come here)
check my newest move, prada top and louis shoes
beefin’ with a group of funny n~ggas, they the looney tunes (yeah)
stay away from ho n~ggas with the moody moods
so many of ’em, sometimes i don’t know who to shoot
the tris the wock’, the red, the quagen
pour up and fall asleep, i’ll see a b~tch later
caught the bag on telegram, now i’m on pier to the schaffer
treat a b~tch like a pint, crack the seal and then taste it
[chorus]
the perc’, no bars, the 30s, i don’t take ’em
two blunts out seven grams ’cause i’m rollin’ up eighths
you ain’t seen no peter griffin, i can tell that boy blakin’
if he ever sold some paper, we gon’ f~ck around and take it (give me that)
[verse 2]
if i put them boys on ’em, then it’s over, long taper
about these business, my face look like i play poker (uh~huh, yeah)
when it comes down this street sh~t, i play like i’m the joker
’bout that bread, get him toasted
he should’ve jumped inside the ocean
wake up, runnin’ to the money, i ain’t even put on lotion
trap hard, i ain’t never goin’ back to havin’ roaches
done fell off for a minute, i ain’t trippin’, i’m back focused (that’s on meech, n~gga)
rose presi’, i’m in california hoppin’ out a lotus
throwin’ up too much motion, all my b~tches be the coldest
loudest n~gga be the brokest, n~ggas thought i was jokin’ (ha)
you ain’t never got a bag pressed on, you had you rollin’
scale ’em all for the os, hundred babies, no strollers (i need it all)
this sh~t easy, n~gga
thousand of ’em on bus, this a field trip (wait up)
blues on the trampoline, i make pill flips (turn me up)
you want some fetti in your mix or that real sh~t? (chill)
i got both, i’m just askin’ what the deal is (yeah)
[chorus]
the perc’, no bars, the 30s, i don’t take ’em
two blunts out seven grams ’cause i’m rollin’ up eighths
you ain’t seen no peter griffin, i can tell that boy blakin’
if he ever sold some paper, we gon’ f~ck around and take it
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