Robb Bank$ - Bare Essentials lyrics
[Robb Bank$ - Bare Essentials lyrics]
Yeah, Childish Major uh, uh look
I said we showed up and we turned up
Good kush, get burned up
Straight shots, tell em' drink up
Think of money, you think of us
Two door, no roof on it
Fucked once and got proof homie
No bread, don't see a point
Probably went skiing if I'm smoking joints
Love talking money
Now she poppin' for these bands
We don't cuff em', I love em'
Tell her pop some for my mans
The game been comin' up
Now these boys got out they hands
But where the fuck was you when
We was workin' on these plans
I said my set straight and my mom straight
My old hoes just too late, good tree, QP
Smoke it all in like two days, gettin' paid
But we just havin' fun
Cause bitch we work hard
So we deserve some, what?
Money, Clothes, Sour money, Clothes and Sour
We got Money, Clothes, Sour
Money Clothes and Sour money, Clothes, Sour
Money, Clothes and Sour
Two ex pills and a water
Keep these hoes name out my mouth
And my rider got his fire
I'm tryna' see what your cash about
Savage Life, I dun' done it all
Ain't none one of these niggas gon' scare me
I'll bust me a nigga
Just to see how he fare against me
And I don't even transport in public
Them keys came in low-key
Gave her a room key
Touch her privates in some privacy
And girl honestly I'm on a Xanax, but
You must be hooked on phonics
Cause them things used to be B-cups
I'm seaside, Smart Stuntin'
Boy, in boat shoes, I'm juggin'
Had my hood sign come from nothin'
All this time
Only thought that there was one type of em'
Boy you finna' get an STD
Tryna' fuck with me
Nigga South Florida in my blood
Two nines tucked, holding up my britches
I done smoked Ports better than
That mid you hittin' lil' bitch
I said we showed up and we turned up
Good kush, get burned up
Straight shots, tell em' drink up
Think of money, you think of us
Two door, no roof on it
Fucked once and got proof homie
No bread, don't see a point
Probably went skiing if I'm smoking joints
Love talking money
Now she poppin' for these bands
We don't cuff em', I love em'
Tell her pop some for my mans
The game been comin' up
Now these boys got out they hands
But where the fuck was you when
We was workin' on these plans
I said my set straight and my mom straight
My old hoes just too late, good tree, QP
Smoke it all in like two days, gettin' paid
But we just havin' fun
Cause bitch we work hard
So we deserve some, what?
Money, Clothes, Sour money, Clothes and Sour
We got Money, Clothes, Sour
Money Clothes and Sour money, Clothes, Sour
Money, Clothes and Sour
Two ex pills and a water
Keep these hoes name out my mouth
And my rider got his fire
I'm tryna' see what your cash about
Savage Life, I dun' done it all
Ain't none one of these niggas gon' scare me
I'll bust me a nigga
Just to see how he fare against me
And I don't even transport in public
Them keys came in low-key
Gave her a room key
Touch her privates in some privacy
And girl honestly I'm on a Xanax, but
You must be hooked on phonics
Cause them things used to be B-cups
I'm seaside, Smart Stuntin'
Boy, in boat shoes, I'm juggin'
Had my hood sign come from nothin'
All this time
Only thought that there was one type of em'
Boy you finna' get an STD
Tryna' fuck with me
Nigga South Florida in my blood
Two nines tucked, holding up my britches
I done smoked Ports better than
That mid you hittin' lil' bitch