lirik lagu luh tyler - if it don't make money
[intro]
(johnny flame make that sh~t hard)
(iggy made it) ayy, yeah
gang, skii
it don’t make money, it don’t make sense to me
[chorus]
if it don’t make money, it don’t make sense to me (yeah)
forty on my wrist and my neck like one~fifty (d~mn)
you the type of n~gga that would sign a three~sixty (dumbass)
always d~ck~ridin’, you act just like p. diddy (ugh)
somethin’ like lebron, came in with that heat with me
all my hoes fine, all my b~tches real pretty (on god)
it’s been seven hours and lil’ brodie still sticky (d~mn)
f~ckin’ ig models you’ve been dreamin’ ’bout hittin’ (ugh)
just made like forty thousand, lil’ b~tch, i’m not kiddin’ (ch~ching)
you ain’t tryna get rich, p~ssy, i can’t rock with you (yeah)
took the roof off this b~tch, slidin’ with the top missin’ (skrrt)
we got grown man money, me and my n~ggas not children
[verse]
gettin’ money while you sittin’ ’round chillin’
i just wanna count millions, break my bank account, n~gga
all this water on me, i might drown, n~gga
put the hoes before the money, yeah, you a clown, n~gga
we been smokin’ so much loud, i can’t hear a sound, n~gga
i’ma beat her down until your b~tch get out, n~gga (ugh)
you ain’t talkin’ money, broke boy, you just sound silly (silly boy)
he can’t up that bag ’cause that n~gga not really gettin’ money (yeah)
real rich n~gga, baby, i can get it if i want it
b~tch, i’m pimpin’, i ain’t trippin’, i will not fall for no woman (rich)
i’m the kid the broke n~ggas hate, the bad b~tches love
this b~tch got a whole lot of cake, i told her back it up (skii)
[chorus]
if it don’t make money, it don’t make sense to me (yeah)
forty on my wrist and my neck like one~fifty (d~mn)
you the type of n~gga that would sign a three~sixty (dumbass)
always d~ck~ridin’, you act just like p. diddy (get off my d~ck)
somethin’ like lebron, came in with that heat with me (yeah)
all my hoes fine, all my b~tches real pretty (ugh)
it’s been seven hours and lil’ brodie still sticky (d~mn)
f~ckin’ ig models you’ve been dreamin’ ’bout hittin’ (ugh)
just made like forty thousand, lil’ b~tch, i’m not kiddin’ (ch~ching)
you ain’t tryna get rich, p~ssy, i can’t rock with you (ugh)
took the roof off this b~tch, slidin’ with the top missin’ (skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
we got grown man money, me and my n~ggas not children (ain’t no d~mn kid)
[outro]
p~ssy boy, we not children
we got grown man money, p~ssy boy, we not children
on god, n~gga
gang, ayy, skii
if it don’t make money, it don’t make sense to me
forty on my wrist and my neck like one~fifty
ice, ice, ice
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