Li63rty - Cash Rules

I'm just, shit you know the vibes
Cash rules

I'm that dyke from the Eastside (Eastside)
Still gripping on that four-five (uh huh)
Always feeling up ya girl thighs (shit)
And I'm sliding nigga who ride? (who ridin')
It's been a long winter
Had to stay on my grizzy (get money nigga)
Had ya chick licky licky my nookie
Until she got dizzy
Cash rules everything around me nigga
All this money coming
Ima need more killa's

Cash rules, I'm just saying
I'm just saying, I'm just saying
I'm just saying, Cash rules

No problems
That's how the money should come
I'm spending like I'm tryna prove
Biggie was so dead wrong (baby, baby)
Got the game on lock
And I know they can't stand it
(I know ya hate a nigga, shinin')
All black looking like a thugged out bandit
Ok now galaxy flow hoe
I'm space jammin'
(Got me dancin' in this muthafucka)
I know ya niggaz like how
I got the money dance
(Got me thuggin' in this muthfucka)
Killing this shit
And I'm beating all charges (uh)
And I'm more like a villain
I be chilling in the darkness
With my hittaz and killaz and drug dealers
Screaming, cash rules

I'm just saying cash rules

Cash rules everything around me
Cream get the money
Dolla dolla dolla fuck it
You know the motto
I'm that thug out chick
Always creeping with a model
Fuck Rosè I sip Dussè
Straight out the bottle
Ain't the same, it's just me
Attire on fleek
Riding, just dirty with my caviar dreams
Drop the top all these haters in shock
Finna open shop
I'ma whip it til it lock
Catch me on the block
While I'm dipping from the cops
With two glock's
Mark for death like a headshot
Getting head from ya thots
O.G's give me props
Well respected (ha)
Meh nah fear not (never)
And I'm bless too
The hustle you can't knock
And I'm bless too
The hustle they can't knock
All my life sat through the pain like a tattoo
Still love my money and honey
Screaming out cash rules

Cash rules, I'm just sayin'
I'm just sayin', I'm just sayin'
I'm just sayin', cash rules

Real shotta
Toot a hundred round choppa
Boom baka boom baka boom baka
We ban the fuck up
Hit ya hood like Al-Qaeda
Probably see me at the bar
Spilling Rosè on her Pradas
Life's getting richer
I finally get the picture
All these bitches get thick
When I'm sipping heavy liquor
Probably gold diggers
I don't pay them
I just dig them
Nowadays you can't tell
What these hoes sniffing
I just blow dro and get high
Like Blake Griffin
I'm I die today I swear to God
I ain't tripping
All my niggaz good
Fuck Nigga I'm great
Keep my grass cut low
I gotta watch out for the jakes
Haters, snakes, pussy niggaz
And pump fakes
Snatchin' souls for faggots
Tryna touch my plate
I can't waste my energy
Kill 'em is the remedy
With success muthafucka
You know my pedigree

Uh, Cash rules
Uh, strictly The Finest
Cash rules, Stop playing with me
Cash rules

Written by:
ALEXANDER M. FITTS, CLIFFORD SMITH, COREY WOODS, DAVID PORTER, DENNIS DAVID COLES, GARY E. GRICE, ISAAC HAYES, JASON S. HUNTER, LAMONT HAWKINS, MATT PENTILLA, RAY CASH, ROBERT F. DIGGS, RUSSELL T. JONES

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid

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