Playboi Carti, J.R. Donato - Word To Yams lyrics

Uh look
Ayy

Run up my check, i want money so tall that I
Think I can sit on it
No I'm not Glizzy, I'm totin' the glizzy
That bitch got the dick on it
Pull out my dick and your nasty lil hoe, no
She won't put her lips on it
Pump with the grip on it
After I grip on it, ho' come and sit on it
Daydreaming suckin' my dick
I'm that highly remembered
She take it and kiss on it
Heard the lil niggas was
Talkin' about robbin'
But how? When I got the stick on me
Easy when I got the tip on me
Muddy, yeah, I got the sip on me
Easily 30 my clip, homie
Nudie my jeans while I shit on 'em

I ain't worried bout no bitch
Thumbin' through the check
Boy, money got me sick
My ex done got me sick aye, cash, cash
My car go fast, fast nigga, Ferrari smash
Money bags, ay yeah, she all on my dick
Yeah I might just smash
Pass her to my clique, then I hit her last
I ain't worried bout no bitch, boy
I'm off this gas
Yeah, my phone blowin' up, I
Think they need some gas, yeah

I ain't worried bout no bitch, boy
I'm off this gas my phone blowin' up
I think they need some gas
Aye, these cops on my ass
Dirty kitchen, dirty cash
Cash Carti, money bags
Yeah, ho, I keep a sack
Got a cup filled with act
I'm a real ass nigga 40 clip with the strap
Blow a nigga off the map
Blowing Backwoods in the trap, ay
Uh, nigga talkin' down, boy, my niggas spray

I ain't worried bout no bitch
Thumbin' through the check
Boy, money got me sick
My ex done got me sick aye, cash, cash
My car go fast, fast nigga, Ferrari smash
Money bags, ay yeah, she all on my dick
Yeah I might just smash
Pass her to my clique, then I hit her last
I ain't worried bout no bitch, boy
I'm off this gas
Yeah, my phone blowin' up, I
Think they need some gas, yeah

I got the bag and I keep a
Stash, when I need the cash, i dig in it
Taylors in here
We get high as skyscrapers and that's
Every time we be kickin' it
Well-put-together, them hoes say this shit
Articulate, ain't it so sick, isn't it?
Busy and Charlie, I'm whippin' it
Sauce I be drippin' it
Come take a dip in it

She a scene ho, it's all good though
Pull down my pants, oh
Don't use your hands, woah
I heard about you, girl
You heard about me too
You heard I got them bands
I heard that mouth for food

I ain't worried bout no bitch
Thumbin' through the check
Boy, money got me sick
My ex done got me sick aye, cash, cash
My car go fast, fast nigga, Ferrari smash
Money bags, ay yeah, she all on my dick
Yeah I might just smash
Pass her to my clique, then I hit her last
I ain't worried bout no bitch, boy
I'm off this gas
Yeah, my phone blowin' up, I
Think they need some gas, yeah