LUCKI, Wteve Baker - Money My Palm lyrics

Yo, I got that
That common courtesy to come ups
I mean sorry, I mean stain for you niggas
I used to be with your eulogy
That's game for you niggas
See green like Triple H
It's about the game for you niggas
Like a sad bitch tweak
It's all the same with you niggas
I'm in my player mode creating
Making names for you niggas
I'm fullback at the line of scrimmage
Making lanes for you niggas
And y'all on snooze like y'all went
To bed late and I figure you gettin sloppy
Like we been married for too long
Make a call, a brick, and he call a boy
He doin him too long
They trappin', he like a butler
He sеrving em up the strong
This boy yelling this to God
Finna gеt worse about these hoes holy shit!
In this bitch got the world up on my back
Feeling like Atlas in this bitch
Like push me, and my squad snappin
Just a nappy headed savage
The trap is a lifestyle
So I just wrap up in this bitch
Out$iders or no side
So now you grounded in this bitch
I'm pitching out for low hit's
Y'all ballers round to hit the bitch
You run this shit, that's a bitch
Cuz you can't hit it like it's a bitch
So don't be through that cinemax
After dark you might catch a flick boy
Out$iders, ain't no come up
So, so bitch give us the all
Look, don't promote me and let us come up
So nigga money my palm
Nigga money my palm, money my palm
Nigga money my palm, money my palm
That old ass Jeep take more than
Die trying like 50 nigga money my palm

Yo add a roll to the Adderall
If he act up, bad breakup, we blast the pole
They say pass the blunt, I say pass the soul
I smoke, fashionable out$iders admiral
Process the execution
Bro what you representin' and salutin'?
We are the revolution
Revelation and solution
Regulations of the state
The mains of the set been shootin'
Time and daily leave protectors clueless
The game the prize
You will never leave a stain alive
File taxes on me I live with
I claim this side
Picture me flamin' eyes, and anguish mind
Surround you in the biggest line if
You don't pay your time
I don't write bitch I paint these rhymes
Call me an autoshop, with a weird accent
My songs get more grunts than a bathroom star
With the fuckin' fat bitch
We act like raiders when the sun evade us
So nighttime we split niggas like we
'bout to smoke some Vegas
You with me or your pockets empty
Its Ciroc and Remy
And a psycho man with dreams
With Bentley's and staying tipsy yuh
Out$iders, ain't no come up
Nah, nah so boy give us an all
Look, don't promote me and let us come up
So, so nigga money my palm
Money my palm, nigga money my palm
Money my palm, nigga money my palm
That old ass Jeep with Wteve Baker & Lucki
Die trying like 50 nigga, money my palm

This for you fuck niggas fuck, fuck fuck
No fuck it fuck, fuck y'all
No fuck it o$G, bang!
You a fuckin stupid ass nerd Beats