lirik lagu trace. & mello - checks/balances
[verse 1: trace.]
ayy, you, yeah you know who i’m talkin’ to
why don’t you come up over here, baby?
come on through
i ain’t got a big crib and i can blow your mind
she let me taste the rainbow, now i’m colorblind
hit it twice, then hop in the car and dash like kendall
can’t talk me down, i whistle when i’m ready like a kettle
no offense, but i’m married to this money
yeah, it ain’t never gonna cheat, and it ain’t ever actin’ scummy, nah
so tell me what you want from me
once you make it then they all start to come runnin’
they takin’ credit for success, but they ain’t with you while you’re workin’
nah, they sayin’ you’re just lucky, ayy
[pre~chorus: trace.]
these b~tches faker than fashion
these diamonds on me, they dancin’
i’m tryna make it in baggage
she back it up, so i grabbed it
i saw the lambo
and d~mnit, i knew i had to just have it
ain’t got the money, but i’m gonna smack it
[chorus: trace.]
(trace)
if they’re checks, i’m cashin’
and if your b~tches wet, i’m smashin’
(i’m smashin’, smashin’)
ooh, there ain’t no f~ckin’ ifs about it
if you’re bringin’ drinks, i might end up drownin’
ain’t no ifs about it
ain’t no ifs about it
i been lookin’ for this all night
and by the way you’re talking, i might’ve found it
(might’ve found it, found it)
[verse 2: mello]
bottoms up, b~tches pourin’ up the bus[?]
(d~mn)
hoes screamin’, runnin’, tryna set it up
(huh?)
b~tches trippin’ really think i’m lovey~dove
yeah, i know the way i acted
i just wanted you to f~ck
(f~ck)
uh, put it on there like a fitted cap
smashin’ through these b~tches
gettin’ paid just like a running back
your man broke, yellin’ at the snacks to get his quarter back
b~tches gonna be b~tches
sorry dawg, i gotta lotta racks
(lotta racks, lotta racks)
yeah, that’s just what you need
see, these hoes will give you anything in life
but it ain’t free
can’t put no trust in a b~tch
they just want money and d~ck
(d~ck)
and i’m gonna give them the stick
but i ain’t buyin’ them sh~t
(h~ll nah)
monday to sunday
whippin’ in the foreign, b~tch, this not a hyundai
got your girl ass shakin’ like some jello
(like some jello, yeah)
ask her what her type is, she say mello
(that’s me)
[chorus: trace.]
if they’re checks, i’m cashin’
and if your b~tches wet, i’m smashin’
ooh, there ain’t no f~ckin’ ifs about it
if you’re bringin’ drinks, i might end up drownin’
ain’t no ifs about it
ain’t no ifs about it
i been lookin’ for this all night
and by the way you’re talking, i might’ve found it
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