2 Da Money lyrics

[Intro]

(Kid Wond3r, you made this beat? Dang)

Gang, gang

Know what's poppin', bitch, you know how I'm rockin', nigga

Get your guns up, get your funds up

You on that opp shit, get mopsticked, bitch

Straight gang shit, YSN, young street nigga (Gang)

[Verse]

I'm gettin' to the money early, bitch, I'm never late (Gang)

It's a shame I gotta tote a strap every day (Gang)

I start a fruit fight with this banana on the K (Grraow, baow, baow)

I got dirty cops on my team, Training Day

I pay them motherfuckers just to keep 'em out my way (Bitch)

I know the Lord blessin' me, so every night, I pray (Thank you, Lord)

Better watch your mouth, better watch what you say (What you say)

Run up in your house, send my killers where you stay at (Where you stay, bitch, bitch)

'Cause nigga, we don't play that (Gang)

I pull off with a nigga bitch, he like, "Where my bae at?" (Where my bae? Bae?)

My chopper disinfect a nigga, spray that (Grraow, baow)

This not a regular car, it's a Maybach (Skrrt, skrrt)

If you don't duck, I knock your shit way back (Bitch)

You knew you wanted to fuck, bitch, just say that (Bitch)

If she don't fuck, I make her find her way back (Bitch)

I hope you niggas know it's time for payback (Gang, gang)

The police pulled me over and said I was speedin' (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)

Bullet holes in his white tee, now he bleedin' (Baow, baow, baow, baow)

I don't fuck with the codeine 'cause I can't be leanin' (Lean, lean)

The junkies sleepin' on my porch, for the dope, they fiendin' (Fiend)

The Forgis on my car look like tricycle tires (Skrrt, skrrt)

Nigga, I'm a pressure applier, make these rappers retire (Make these rappers retire)

'Cause I hit the studio and leave the booth on fire (Leave the booth on fire)

Get on your ass with my mask like my name Michael Myers (Gang, gang)

I'm on the corner sellin' bags like a scene off The Wire (Gang, gang)

Come in the trap, we pat you down in case you wearing a wire (Bitch, gang, gang)

I got a new white bitch, she look like Lizzie McGuire (Bitch)

She give me head, make her jaws lock like real pliers

I'm a young nigga with an old-ass soul (I got an old-ass soul)

Got a whole lot of bodies on this old-ass pole (Old-ass pole)

I got this molly for you, bitch, do you wanna roll? (Roll, roll, roll, roll)

Her head cold, took my soul, I can't feel my toes (Gang, gang, gang)

Now what's the definition of a hustler? (Of a hustler)

I'm sittin' on Gucci bucket seats, I got my shit custom

I'm all about my chips like a Ruffle (All my chips)

I never cracked a card, I got this shit up off the muscle (Gang, ayy)

If you a broke boy, you better hustle (You better hustle, nigga)

I got these junkies at my door lookin' just like David Ruffins (Gang)

Boy, you need to catch up and get some mustard (Go get some mustard, nigga)

I brung my pipe case you wanna fight, nigga, I don't tussle (Gang)

I got dirty money in the duffle bag (In the duffle bag)

Pull up stuntin' on they ass, I make niggas mad (I make niggas mad)

I don't fuck with ugly hoes, all my bitches bad (All my bitches bad)

She got a deuce-five Beretta in her Birkin bag (Baow, baow, baow)

My mama kicked me out the house with my worrisome ass (Gang)

She seen me runnin' in and out with that black bookbag (Gang)

I put my niggas on your ass, you won't get no pass (Bitch, huh?)

You won't need an ambulance, you gon' die too fast (Grraow, baow)

I had to cut some niggas off 'cause it was snakes in the grass (Skrrt)

These niggas funny, make me laugh at they peon ass (Hahaha)

I fuck foreign bitches, baby, with your Nissan ass (Bitch)

These pussy niggas tuck they ass soon as we ride past (Gang)

I pulled up in a whatchamacallit (Gang, gang, skrrt)

She let me fuck for free, and you bought it (Bitch)

I keep a 40 like an alcoholic (Grrah, bah)

You copped out on that case, you should've fought it (Gang)

How you still rappin' and you damn near forty? (Gang)

And I been with it ever since a shorty (Gang)

She want my baby, wanna have my shorty (Bitch, bitch)

I guess she peeped I was a trapaholic (Woah)

Nigga say he gettin' money, but I know you're lyin'

I sold a hundred dimes like a hundred times

White bitch with me, she could snort a hundred lines

I bet I can make it snow up in the summertime (Gang)

[Outro]

Gang, gang

Skrrt, skrrt

No Hooks part two, bitch, you know how I'm rockin', nigga

Get your guns up, get your funds up

You on that opp shit, get mopsticked, bitch

YSN, young street nigga

• Artist:Lud Foe
• Album:No Hooks 2 (2017)