Vice City

Big money, big booty bitches

Man that shit gon' be death of me

Big problems, I must admit it

Man that shit gon' be death of me

I pray to a C-Note, my mama gave up hope

I can't stand myself

I just bought a new coat, I might go broke

I can't stand myself

Big money, big booty bitches

Man that shit

Turn me up

Sensing, sensing, sensing, sensing

Big money, big booty bitches

Tell the truth, nigga I'm lost without it

Seven figures for a headline

You want some stage time we can talk about it

Niggas actin' like they be rappin'

Like nice on the mic, truly not

Go against the king, y'all don't wanna live

That decision is hella childish

Rose gold for my old hoes

They ain't satisfied then I sit 'em down

10th grade, I gave her all shade

But now she got some ass, I wanna hit it now

I don't lease, I just all out feast

I put a blue Caprice on Gary Coleman

Bomb head and some cheese eggs

That's a new raise, and a signing bonus

Fall in this bitch

Like some good pussy, can't stand myself

So good, she so hood

She a cheesehead, patty melt

GED with some EBTs, and some EBD's

That shit was happening

She reel me in with some chicken wings

And some collard greens, that shit was brackin'

Just cracked me a new bitch

Bust a new nut on her nigga's jersey

My bitch get off at 9 o'clock

So I had to shake her 'round 7:30

1:05, I'm stomping fast

With these big guns, I'm hella dirty

Get caught with this shit

I ain't comin' home 'til like 2030

I got big money, big booty bitches

Man that shit gon' be death of me (death of me)

Big problems, I must admit it

Man that shit gon' be death of me (death of me)

Big dreams, no superstition

Man that shit gon' be death of me (death of me)

I pray to a C-Note, my mama gave up hope

I can't stand myself

I just bought a new coat, I might go broke

I can't stand myself

I just might ban myself

I just might

God!

I'm focused feeling blessed, cause my eyes be the truth

Mental window blurry as a bitch

Still lookin' out it

So much money off the fuckin' books

Could write a book about it

Took a minute, no, wait a minute

Let me think about it

Bout 10 years, Crips, Bloods

Sweat and tears and we still counting

Had a real thick bitch named Brooklyn

She fucked the whole squad

Every time I land in Brooklyn

They fuck with the whole squad

I'm more spiritual than lyrical

I'm similar to Eli Why?

Cause I'm wearin' black shades

And I'm headed west with the word of God

I think I'm finally ready to talk about it

These niggas just talk about it

Homie you don't play me for no fool

Poppin' bottles like enemigos, los dios mio, I'm so cold

Get so deep in that water, water

They should call my johnson a harpoon

Feed the needy, don't know graffiti

Paint her walls like a cartoon

Beat the pussy up so bad

Send her home with some war wounds

Loaded off the 'gnac, hit her from the back

Goin' 'cross her head bar stool

Touch her soul 'til I curl her toes

Then it's time to reload, then it's part two

Damn near 30 still set trippin' cuz

Where you're from, I'mma see about it

Last year I made 10 million

That's where I've been yeah, a private island

Smoking something, on autopilot

Got too many cars, I might crash a whip

New 'Rari pedal barely tapping

Nigga, vroom-vroom, yeah I'm rich bitch

Got two Rollies but one missing

Think my daughter flossing, she in Kindergarten

Got one crib worth two cribs

And my front lawn, yeah that's water fountain

You be talking bars, saying big words

Like philosophies, man you weird homie

What it sounds to me that you broke as fuck

And your bitch gon' leave and that's real homie

I got big money, big booty bitches

Man that shit gon' be death of me (death of me)

Big problems, I must admit it

Man that shit gon' be death of me (death of me)

Big dreams, no superstition

That shit gon' be the death of me (death of me)

I pray to a C-Note, my mama gave up hope

I can't stand myself

I just bought a new coat, I just might go broke

I can't stand myself

I just might ban myself

I just might God! God!

Source: LyricFind