Lyrics
Mota
Runnin' through a hundred thousand, nigga, no lie
Old school with the rallies like Sosa
Yeah, my niggas put you on I got some hoes down
Represent me to the utmost in the valley
You could meet me in a spaceship?
If you can’t feel your face,?
Fuck the shit out of your girlfriend, don’t stop now
Call me Sir Clyde Carson
Presidential suite, no secret circuit
Victoria Secret lingerie
That’s all she got on
And that’s a lot on
Yo nigga put the H in hustle and put the G in gang
Best ones gone, but a few remain
I see bullshit through these Gucci frames
I know what money smell like and bitch you stank
I’ve got plenty mo' henny and ?, just in case
Mo' bitches that’s ready on the phone, just in case
We could pull up anywhere if you want, just in case
You need a lil' mo', just in case
Down a lil' mo', just in case
Yeah
Gotta throw 'em money
Tell em', ain’t hard
Still mack hard, maneuver, situatin'
Fast line to my destination
Want the whole thang, no hesitation
But you so lame, you was so basic
Now you in a Range, got you upgraded
They wait patiently 'cus they can’t replace me
Please back it up if you make the statement
Platinum Chanel, Versace fragrance
I was always thought never knock a playa'
We could stack money, go get it back for me
A bunch of racks on me, I can’t relax homie
My nigga died rich of tree, that’s facts homie
Stolen I.D., I’ve got my pass on me
We could blow
Runnin' through the money, then I relocate
Worry bout' yo nigga baby, I’ll be straight
Show him how to hustle, keep him on that chase
Put it on yo tongue baby, how that taste?
How that taste?
How that taste?
Put it on yo tongue baby, how that taste?
Had to see me now 'cus you could not wait
I’ve got some extra for ya baby, just in case
