Yeat – Type monëy Lyrics

Type monëy

Yeat

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"Type monëy." - Yeat

Thursday, 22 October 2026, 12:22 am

Album: AftërLyfe

Track No: 20

.556, big bullets to the head
I don't even fuck with nobody, what's the deal?
I'ma lay back, kick back, pop a pill
Drivin' in the coupe, I don't even grab the wheel
Swervin' the muhfuckin' madness (Skrrt), I already said that shit
Swervin' the muhfuckin' madness (Hol' on, hol' on), I already planned that shit (Bitch)
I was just swervin' the muhfuckin' Tonk, swervin' this shit out the muhfuckin' bottom
Yeah, took this shit out on the town, I'ma pop me a Perc', I'm not drinkin' Moscato
I'm sippin' on lean, lean, I'm green, I'm high as a bird, bitch
Yeah, I'm poppin' the muhfuckin' X (Hol' on), lil bitch, I ain't no nerd, bitch
Yeah, hol' on, come on, come and tell me what you said and what you heard, bitch
Yeah, I got snipers aimin' down at your head (Bang, bang), yeah, you blurred, bitch, yeah
I was swervin'-swervin'-swervin' the diamond (Skrrt), right off the curb, b
Yeah, seven-seven-seven, send 'em to heaven, I'm talkin' to God, bitch
Yeah, you don't know who we are, bitch
I got dirty money buried in dirt, type of money, put that boy on a shirt
Type of money make the bitch go berserk, type of money make that bitch go twerk
Type of money I could ruin your world, and type of money I could take your lil' girl
This type of money got me runnin' the world
This type of gun, it 'boutta hit in his bowels
'Boutta shoot 'em all, but this is not heroin
Roll 'em down and dish 'em out from the barrel
I got mob ties way before all of us
I'm a big star, call the astronomers
Got a big car, it gon' fit all of us
Bitch, you gon' need a mill' if you just want a verse
I don't wanna talk, no, I don't wanna converse
Back in the trap with no sign of a hearse
Bonnie and Clyde, got a Glock in her purse, oh, yeah
We them boys who be poppin' them tags, bitch
With that bitch, I'm gonna fuckin' go ahead
Yeah, my Glock shoot his shot like a fade
Bitch, we know that you broke, keep tabs on ya
Bitch you trippin', you off of them tabs
Like a snake, bitch, we hide in the grass
Made this shit out of muhfuckin' Lego
Made it easy, just shit from the ground
I wanna live too, this a jail
And she sit on the beach, she a shell
We ride, we look covered in rags
Inside the Urus, the bitch all red (Yeah)
Bend the bitch back and I bust on her head (Yeah)
One, two, three, four shots leave him dead (He dead)
.556, big bullets to the head
I don't even fuck with nobody, what's the deal? (What's the deal?)
I'ma lay back, kick back, pop a pill
Drivin' in the coupe, I don't even grab the wheel
.556, big bullets to the head
I don't even fuck with nobody, what's the deal?
I'ma lay back, kick back, pop a pill
Drivin' in the coupe, I don't even grab the wheel
Swervin' the muhfuckin' madness (Skrrt), I already said that shit
Swervin' the muhfuckin' madness (Hol' on, hol' on), I already planned that shit (Bitch)
I was just swervin' the muhfuckin' Tonk, swervin' this shit right out the muhfuckin' bottom
Yeah, took this shit out on the town, I'ma pop me a Perc', I'm not drinkin' Moscato
I'm sippin' on lean, lean, I'm green, I'm high as a bird, bitch
Yeah, I'm poppin' the muhfuckin' X (Hol' on), lil' bitch, I ain't no nerd, bitch
Yeah, hol' on, come on, come and tell me what you said and what you heard, bitch
Yeah, I got snipers aimin' down at your head (Bang, bang), yeah, you blurred, bitch, yeah
I was swervin'-swervin'-swervin' the diamond (Skrrt), right off the curb, b
Yeah, seven-seven-seven, send 'em to heaven, I'm talkin' to God, bitch

Writer(s): Noah Smith & Leonardo Claus.

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