Lil Poppa, YTB Fatt & CMG The Label – 4 Dat Money Lyrics

Lil Poppa, YTB Fatt & CMG The Label – 4 Dat Money Lyrics
4 Dat Money
Lil Poppa, YTB Fatt & CMG The Label
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    4 Dat Money Album Art
    "4 Dat Money." - Lil Poppa, YTB Fatt & CMG The Label

    Album: Gangsta Art 2
    Track No: 08
    I'm in LA with the growers
    See you going for dog shit right here, ****, how many you need?
    ****, place your order
    Or you can get this amount for this amount
    ****, ****, keep 'em comin'
    I was gon' die about this shit for free, imagine what I'll do for that money
    If you tryin' to be around, better have a voucher
    I don't know if you gon' shoot your pistol for me
    When you see me, you gon' see a smacker
    These **** round me ready to tie up a woman
    Bagg say, "Stay out the hood, boy, them millions comin'"
    Six chains on, totin' a hundred
    That little ass money these **** uploaded, I done thumbed through it and spunt it
    ****, this shit on my neck, this shit hunchin', sex
    The shit they did, I done
    ****, this shit came quick, how?
    I got foxes across the country
    Before this deal, you could ask my city
    ****, I was gettin 'em hit before the money
    Been had the power, now I got the cheese
    Shit ain't funny
    I put this shit on they head like a scrunchie
    Switches, frrt, bump down hundreds
    I kept this shit on order like a function
    The last **** just won't leave my conscious
    We made 'em eat that shit like the munchies
    In my family, I take care of the womans
    ****, I'll pay 'em if you hit his tummy
    ****, I'm cashin' out whoever done it
    If he make the news by Sunday, ****, you'll have that shit on Monday
    Have them youngins spin that bitch so many times, they just think I'm giving money out
    Rich junkie, bitch, I do this shit 'cause I can afford the high
    Broke dummies, why come beef with us? You can't afford to die
    Up at 6 AM, I'm geeking, thirty left to 7
    In here high as hell tweakin', feel like I'm close to heaven
    They hit the lights, fire up a Black & Mild before he say he smell me
    Tell 'em **** that's me ridin' foreign in the city
    Four choppas in that decoy back there trailing
    Fly the bitch to LA, no this ain't no vacay, ho, you mailing
    Told her once I fuck, don't give that shit away unless you selling it
    Don't make my young **** kill a pussy today, right now he celibate
    I'll self defense a ****, don't forget, I ain't got no felonies
    I'm in LA with the growers
    See you going for dog shit right here, ****, how many you need?
    ****, place your order
    Or you can get this amount for this amount
    ****, ****, keep 'em comin'
    I was gon' die about this shit for free, imagine what I'll do for that money
    I'll pull up back street post up with some grave diggers
    Tell them boys, "Don't @ me, ain't even tryna play wit' ya"
    Bitch pull up at 3 AM, we fuckin', I can't lay wit' ya
    Soon as I'm done busting, get to trucking, I can't stay wit' ya
    Glock came with a Hellcat, ****, this a Dodge pistol
    "Poppa, where the hell ya at?" Bet I ain't tryna dodge ****
    Rappers talkin' 'bout let's work, but I can't lie, I charge ****
    I can't lie, I'm scarred, but them Perkies heal my heart
    They know it ain't safe out after dark
    I'm in LA with the growers
    See you going for dog shit right here, ****, how many you need?
    ****, place your order
    Or you can get this amount for this amount
    ****, ****, keep 'em comin'
    I was gon' die about this shit for free, imagine what I'll do for that money

    Writer(s): Cavon Paige, Darryl Clemons, Janarious Wheeler, Kevin Andre Price & Tahj Morgan.

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