lirik lagu $weet-t & $kid (rapper) - bernie madoff
[intro: ]
(come on, guppy)
[verse 1: $weet~t]
i could be a million billionaire, i’m still goin’ to the coney
gang got so much ice, kamal, had to buy a zamboni
i ride with buffaloes and ‘bows like i’m shoshone
$weet stay around the cheese like some f~ckin’ macaroni
dope spot hot, bump it, heavy traffic to the lot
vacuum sealin’ bags and blocks got the gang thumbin’ through knots
hollow somethin’ 507, don’t make $weet connect the dots
bankroll super thick, you’d think my stack was doin’ squats
if you can’t tell by now, all i care about is cash
ridin’ through your hood with your credit score up on the dash
pretty b~tch ridin’ shotgun and she look like ash ketch
this bag came from the press, i don’t go to hash bash
your b~tch said she wanna play with my icy ropes
unc’ cook designer drugs, he’s playin’ with the isotopes
i feel like galileo, all my choppers got a telescope
all my squad know is wrap and trap and scr~p and sell the dope
i keep big guns around me, i ain’t reachin’ for no mase
you could pull up in a vest but dutch would shoot you in the face
unc’ just pulled up in the ‘vette, he started doin’ figure 8s
i’m choppin’ ice with the blade, you would think i figure skate
smokin’ chronic, takin’ tabs with tonic, now i’m seein’ visuals
i don’t even rap, i’m a multitalented individual
$weet need the big chunk, you boys can keep the residuals
just scoot them pounds from habibi, at this point, it’s habitual
[verse 2: $kid]
talkin’ numbers with habibi, a couple hundred in the fiji
pulled up to the spot, my junkie workin’ the squeegee
$weet want me in the stu’, but my fiends need me
you would think i was the major the way my fiends treat me
i took your whole operation and dropped it on a pendant
you dropped information at the station to lower your sentence
a hundred junkies in the trap, dutch takin’ attendance
they tryna rap like $kid, but i don’t see the resemblance
shootin’ dice at the stu’, it’s just me and stu
i ain’t ordered the rice, it just came with the food
i ain’t need the heated seats, it just came with the coupe
i got rocks in my amiris, i had weed in my trues
couple stacks somethin’ to you, to me it’s just some shoes
i’m at the suburban 53, seein’ what they payin’ for the blues
i got unc’ ridin’ with me, he need a couple too
we in the whip burnin’ l’s, takin’ w’s
private meeting with the plug, all the doors locked
i ain’t gotta call around, all the drugs stocked
dutch hit a kid on the drill and got his pay docked
i’m livin’ big ’til they catch me like bernie madoff
[outro]
i got gunk in the pop with a trunk full of rocks
new batch in, blew unc’ out his socks
sittin’ in the trap lookin’ at the clock
my mans an hour away, i got a play on a block
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