Baby Money - All Drakes lyrics

I keep tellin' you the same
Fuckin' thing about things, man
You always tellin' me, man
What the fuck is the use of havin'
Soldiers if you can't use 'em?
That's why I'm Rico, that's why
I do what I do, nigga
Yeah

We gon' make it industry, or in the streets
I told bro fry the block if it's any beef
We send them birds through the air
These niggas sendin' tweets
Come and light your crib up
Like it's Christmas Eve
Yeah, I moved out of the hood
And I miss my fiend hide your ho
I done fucked every bitch I seen
I ain't seen a fast turtle or a bitch I need
Three hundred racks in two months, nigga
This shit easy
Was raised in the ghetto, boy, nigga
This for Peezy them bitches seventeen-five
Somebody call Jeezy
Niggas ain't have no faith in me
I made 'em believe it
Bro, like how you playin' quarterback
But you really receiver?

Hit your block broad day, big opp, small K
Toosie Slide on them niggas
We hop out with all Dracs
Boy, don't touch none of these
Men, on my mama, we all made
I got twenty-seven killers on my line
They all paid
Hit your block broad day, big opp, small K
Toosie Slide on them niggas
We hop out with all Dracs
Boy, don't touch none of these
Men, on my mama, we all made
I got twenty-seven killers on my line
They all paid

All these drugs, I abuse 'em, bitches
I excuse 'em
What's the point of a nigga havin'
Soldiers and don't use 'em?
Kill a nigga with his mama
Fuck a nigga, yeah, i'm ruthless
She say she love me, but got a nigga
She confusin'
Still payin' one-fifty for a pill
I'm 'bout to move in
If one nigga went out of the count
The whole crew in
Your bitch bought her own flight back
But she got flew in
Two bitches sittin' in my coupe
I feel like Lou Williams
They don't wanna pay that hood fee
Make 'em move then
And I'ma split the bag with my
Dog when the food in
Heard her old nigga lame
She textin' me she need a new man
I hit him in his head, now
His picture on the news, damn

Hit your block broad day, big opp, small K
Toosie Slide on them niggas
We hop out with all Dracs
Boy, don't touch none of these
Men, on my mama, we all made
I got twenty-seven killers on my line
They all paid
Hit your block broad day, big opp, small K
Toosie Slide on them niggas
We hop out with all Dracs
Boy, don't touch none of these
Men, on my mama, we all made
I got twenty-seven killers on my line
They all paid