Tom MacDonald - You Crazy lyrics

Hundred racks on your mind
Got the homies moving weight

Hundred racks on your mind
Got the homies pushing weight
You been working nine to five
They been working five to eight
Y’all been steady on the grind
Got the link into the states
And you think that it gon’
Help you be a rapper dawg you fucking crazy

Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy

Who got that money, we want it
I’m riding with all of
My colleagues and comrades
I’m turnt up, I’m sober, just kidding


I’m faded and all these good girls
Have been bad bitches lately
If y’all don’t know my name
Y’all might be fucking retarded
To see y’all sippin’ shit that you
Can get over the counter
Heard y’all keep your shit on the
Low in an empty apartment
'Bout to rob that shit and then
Take a few people shoppin’
We used to go hard in prairies with it
Got like 80 large in the Honda Civics
Take it to the spot and
Run it through a business
The money come out cleaner
Than some fucking dishes
Don’t talk big bank in a small town
Don’t talk ‘bout food when the sharks ‘round
Only talk to a bitch if she doesn’t listen
Who got that money, and it always listen
Who got that money, we want it, I’m riding
We’re riding
We’re riding with all of my homies
Who got that money, we faded, faded, faded
We’ll roll on like all of your homies

Who got them straps, who gon’ pull it?
Who got them dodgin’ their bullets?
Who smilin’ crooked?
Who got the molly hidden in there fitting?
Who works the streets and who really gets it?

Hundred racks on your mind
Got the homies pushing weight
You been working nine to five
They been working five to eight
Y’all been steady on the grind
Got the link into the states
And you think that it gon’
Help you be a rapper dawg you fucking crazy

Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy

We’re all about pussy and paper
Acid washed denim and Swishers
Grape flavored
I’m too high I’m trippin’, I’m
Leanin’, I’m sipping, I’m sober
Just kidding i’m fucked up, I'm fucked up
Y’all don’t wanna fuck with me
Y’all don't wanna know my plan
Y’all don’t wanna hold my hand
Y'all don’t wanna be my friend
Y’all ain’t gonna need your friends
Y’all ain’t gonna need some
Bands when we come
Through 25 deep in the cut like
Who got that money, we want it, we want it

I used to go hard with my country cats
Rollin’ in a pickup with a hundred racks
Took it to the strippers
We weren’t ever greeting
We double up the cake and
Then we give it back
Don’t talk ‘bout shit if you don’t got it
I keep it real with songs
About bitches and parties
Don’t talk ‘bout shit if you don’t got it
Who got that money, we want it, we want it
Who got that money, we want
It, I’m riding, we’re riding
We’re riding with all of homies
Who got that money, we faded, faded, faded
We’ll roll on like all of your homies

Who got them straps, who gon’ pull it?
Who got them dodgin’ their bullets?
Who smilin’ crooked?
Who got the molly hidden in there fitting?
Who works the streets and who really gets it?

Hundred racks on your mind
Got the homies pushing weight
You been working nine to five
They been working five to eight
Y’all been steady on the grind
Got the link into the states
And you think that it gon’
Help you be a rapper dawg you fucking crazy

Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy
Dawg you fucking crazy