Baby Money - Above the Rim lyrics
Baby Money [Carlos Deshawn Fischer] Detroit, Michigan, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Baby Money - Above the Rim lyrics]
(Reuel, stop playin' with these niggas)
Above the rim, I'm on some Birdie shit
Got a thirty in my clip
I'm on some Curry shit
He tried to play and he got murdered quick
Bitch, you ain't a grown man, you rock a 36
I make my own bands, they ain't throw me shit
I'll come and kill your mans
Better hope we miss
I really got this shit on hand
Ain't gotta show no pics
If you got it out the mud
Nigga show your wrist
Bitch, these real VVS's, need no flash either
My whole team up that shit
We'll crash Bimmers she ask me did I fuck
That bitch? I caught amnesia
Can feel the tension in the air
I think I'm Beanie Sigel
I'll sit insidе your state and
Sell thesе beans single
I was textin' her, then I fucked
I don't even mingle
Them bales we put inside the air
They don't even jingle
Got a brand new t-shirt
It ain't even wrinkled that's that work talk
So much drip, I caused a wave
That's that surf talk
Step on a brick, it bounced back
Caught a curveball
Say he the hottest thing out
I never heard of y'all
I'll murder dawg, I ain't gotta make no calls
'Cause I done seen some
Shit you wouldn't believe
We'd be rich if niggas wasn't so greedy
Yeah, straight out the mud
We be gettin' this cheese
You grind hard, shit ain't come that easy
Shit, I got it out the mud by myself
Fuck what boy thought
Dark brown coupe and it's a foreign
Look like soy sauce
Potato on the barrel, when I shoot
Take the noise off
Two hundred every time I touch down, boy
That's lawyer talk
It's twenty plain jane, when it's bust
It's a forty ball
Stop pourin' petty drank, you
Got a pint, nigga, pour it all
We had wood cabinets in the crib
Now the floors marble
Thirty thousand for a Gucci tracksuit
But I an't goin' joggin'
You hear that, nutso?
Boy here says he owes me he owes me
Above the rim, I'm on some Birdie shit
Got a thirty in my clip
I'm on some Curry shit
He tried to play and he got murdered quick
Bitch, you ain't a grown man, you rock a 36
I make my own bands, they ain't throw me shit
I'll come and kill your mans
Better hope we miss
I really got this shit on hand
Ain't gotta show no pics
If you got it out the mud
Nigga show your wrist
Bitch, these real VVS's, need no flash either
My whole team up that shit
We'll crash Bimmers she ask me did I fuck
That bitch? I caught amnesia
Can feel the tension in the air
I think I'm Beanie Sigel
I'll sit insidе your state and
Sell thesе beans single
I was textin' her, then I fucked
I don't even mingle
Them bales we put inside the air
They don't even jingle
Got a brand new t-shirt
It ain't even wrinkled that's that work talk
So much drip, I caused a wave
That's that surf talk
Step on a brick, it bounced back
Caught a curveball
Say he the hottest thing out
I never heard of y'all
I'll murder dawg, I ain't gotta make no calls
'Cause I done seen some
Shit you wouldn't believe
We'd be rich if niggas wasn't so greedy
Yeah, straight out the mud
We be gettin' this cheese
You grind hard, shit ain't come that easy
Shit, I got it out the mud by myself
Fuck what boy thought
Dark brown coupe and it's a foreign
Look like soy sauce
Potato on the barrel, when I shoot
Take the noise off
Two hundred every time I touch down, boy
That's lawyer talk
It's twenty plain jane, when it's bust
It's a forty ball
Stop pourin' petty drank, you
Got a pint, nigga, pour it all
We had wood cabinets in the crib
Now the floors marble
Thirty thousand for a Gucci tracksuit
But I an't goin' joggin'
You hear that, nutso?
Boy here says he owes me he owes me