Baby Money - Money Conversations lyrics
Baby Money [Carlos Deshawn Fischer] Detroit, Michigan, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Baby Money - Money Conversations lyrics]
(My nigga Lee, I think we got another one)
I'm eighty-seven racks in, where my tab at?
I should beat my bitch ass with her bad ass
That money come in duffle bags
Works come in trash bags
I could pull racks at any time
Call it fast cash
My youngin pull up shootin' anybody
Think he Mad Max
Bro, the chopper smilin', boy
Let's see who get the last laugh
Rather fly out to an island, fuck some O's
We want hashtags
And me and bro gon' spit the pros
Went half on the last batch
Gon' take the risk, I feel like Eggroll
These bricks inside the fender
Gon' your bitch and I'ma head home
She eat me likе it's dinner
Young niggas lookin' up to me
They callin' mе they mentor
Ask me how I had a stick in
The party before I'm in there
I'll make a mil' in a state
And I ain't been there
I heard them alphabet boys just waitin'
So I just send there
'Bout a Urus on my neck
Another hundred in wristwear
Everybody want success
But don't wanna work to get there
The Hellcat just fishtail
I think I'm Ric Flair
Enough money to disappear right in thin air
The feds caught our package
They just called me, it's a miscarriage
But that was a distraction, the real bag
I let my bitch carry it
Money conversations, this the plug
Don't hang the phone up
Knock a nigga daddy down before the sun up
We specialize in walkin' niggas down
So don't run up
Put fifty cent on every nigga
That's your young buck
Three-five in every Backwood
I know my lungs fucked ghetto baby
Swing them choppers like some nunchucks
Them niggas ain't no killers
They some young pups
Them niggas' pockets worth four thousand
They got one cup
Yeah, ain't no bein' broke around me, boy
I'm pluggin' 'em
I'm just fuckin' on these hoes
I ain't lovin' 'em how the fuck the bag gone
And you ain't touchin' 'em? I know a killer
He just beggin' for another one
I got some babies in the crib
I'm 'bout to tuck 'em in
She let my kids hit the
Floor and never fuck again
Can't no accountant count my cheese
I barely trust my mans
Don't just be runnin' up on me
I damn near bust a fan
My pain died, aim high, we on the same side
Put the trees upside down, check the hangtime
Last time an opp died
I was on a plane flyin'
Ironically we was in the sky at the same time
These niggas tired of gettin' killed
Tell 'em take five
Nigga, I been payin' bills since
I was yay high i took a lot of niggas in
They tried to take me out
You'd fuck with me if you knew
What I made it out
They hit the block yesterday
We just changed the house
He had a plan before he died
But he laid the route
Two hundred pounds at one time
We gon' save the drought
I know you left it up to me
We gon' make it count this for Crumbles
Money conversations, this the plug
Don't hang the phone up
Knock a nigga daddy down before the sun up
We specialize in walkin' niggas down
So don't run up
(My nigga Lee, I think we got another one)
Put fifty cent on every nigga
That's your young buck
Three-five in every Backwood
I know my lungs fucked ghetto baby
Swing them choppers like some nunchucks
Them niggas ain't no killers
They some young pups
Them niggas' pockets worth four thousand
They got one cup
I'm eighty-seven racks in, where my tab at?
I should beat my bitch ass with her bad ass
That money come in duffle bags
Works come in trash bags
I could pull racks at any time
Call it fast cash
My youngin pull up shootin' anybody
Think he Mad Max
Bro, the chopper smilin', boy
Let's see who get the last laugh
Rather fly out to an island, fuck some O's
We want hashtags
And me and bro gon' spit the pros
Went half on the last batch
Gon' take the risk, I feel like Eggroll
These bricks inside the fender
Gon' your bitch and I'ma head home
She eat me likе it's dinner
Young niggas lookin' up to me
They callin' mе they mentor
Ask me how I had a stick in
The party before I'm in there
I'll make a mil' in a state
And I ain't been there
I heard them alphabet boys just waitin'
So I just send there
'Bout a Urus on my neck
Another hundred in wristwear
Everybody want success
But don't wanna work to get there
The Hellcat just fishtail
I think I'm Ric Flair
Enough money to disappear right in thin air
The feds caught our package
They just called me, it's a miscarriage
But that was a distraction, the real bag
I let my bitch carry it
Money conversations, this the plug
Don't hang the phone up
Knock a nigga daddy down before the sun up
We specialize in walkin' niggas down
So don't run up
Put fifty cent on every nigga
That's your young buck
Three-five in every Backwood
I know my lungs fucked ghetto baby
Swing them choppers like some nunchucks
Them niggas ain't no killers
They some young pups
Them niggas' pockets worth four thousand
They got one cup
Yeah, ain't no bein' broke around me, boy
I'm pluggin' 'em
I'm just fuckin' on these hoes
I ain't lovin' 'em how the fuck the bag gone
And you ain't touchin' 'em? I know a killer
He just beggin' for another one
I got some babies in the crib
I'm 'bout to tuck 'em in
She let my kids hit the
Floor and never fuck again
Can't no accountant count my cheese
I barely trust my mans
Don't just be runnin' up on me
I damn near bust a fan
My pain died, aim high, we on the same side
Put the trees upside down, check the hangtime
Last time an opp died
I was on a plane flyin'
Ironically we was in the sky at the same time
These niggas tired of gettin' killed
Tell 'em take five
Nigga, I been payin' bills since
I was yay high i took a lot of niggas in
They tried to take me out
You'd fuck with me if you knew
What I made it out
They hit the block yesterday
We just changed the house
He had a plan before he died
But he laid the route
Two hundred pounds at one time
We gon' save the drought
I know you left it up to me
We gon' make it count this for Crumbles
Money conversations, this the plug
Don't hang the phone up
Knock a nigga daddy down before the sun up
We specialize in walkin' niggas down
So don't run up
(My nigga Lee, I think we got another one)
Put fifty cent on every nigga
That's your young buck
Three-five in every Backwood
I know my lungs fucked ghetto baby
Swing them choppers like some nunchucks
Them niggas ain't no killers
They some young pups
Them niggas' pockets worth four thousand
They got one cup