Fishskale music presents - Break the bank (feat. Mistah f.a.b., D3szn & Payme foxx)

Ayy, ayy, ayy Ayy, southside money man
This is sack city money man Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, I just broke the bank, nigga The broddy set the play with it
Ayy, ayy, ayy I just broke the bank

In the bank at an SBA Broddy set the play with no delay
Like twenty minutes made Twentysay, I sit before the lines
He talkin' mini-may They ain't even knowin
How I made the pinky freeze today I don't do no talkin

Want no purpose, bring a fee to me Gone along my pinky
Kinda lookin' like I'm mini-me Bitch, I've been the man around my bitty
I be with bigger bees Pressure on that pussy
I beat it like the enemy I ain't no Mike Jones back then

And now these hoes on me Hit me in my system, I got P5O on him
Shoutout Lil' James for the spack of fat polo
And they say I got no heart Bitch, I gave it to the wrong woman
I been makin' my own money, nigga I been dope buildin

Blowin' Rollins out like this is my mediocre bitch eatin
I can count them lilacs every minute I got big business
Baby, don't you play me right And I know I can't wait a minute
We don't do no linkers, nigga Bitch, we got them big Benz

I ain't need no Lincoln, me and yo shawty, we got big clans
DBS on, love me, I don't get it from no Fuqua
Workin' around my city, I'm that nigga, I'm that guy
Got glazes for the gang, see an opp, he gon' die

Under the hood, fuck a horse It's a cheetah, I got shooters in them chains
Every day, I pray they free him I just blow a bag, hundred bands tucked
Bitch, I ran it up This that shit that get your man slumped
Get his head bust I just copped a drop top

That shit flash, fuck Through the dash, on the cops
High speed to the block I'm ridin' with a baby child
Clint Field, Devil Rock I ain't never go broke, bitch
I and Young Jock dissin' on the internet Ain't safe, keep a gun with you

It's D3, Mr. Benzine with a chrome pistol
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye Why
And shut the fuck up, bitch
Don't mess with my bro, baby

Niggas must be seen now A stupid-ass nigga that got away with murder
and wanna reach out They ain't wanna pass
I got the ball off the rebound Crazy how them niggas think
they gon' get it from me now Mass burnin', boy, I'm goin' on my Westbrook

Like a license plate off the lot, how that check look
Yeah, them paper plates House where the raiders play
Don't pimp no more, but still got more hoes than Flava Flay
Two hundred up, though Watch me run it up, bro

Four hundred or no hundred Said I do too much
I said I ain't done enough, though Yo, niggas think he hard
But he softer than a puff coat He always actin' tough, though
Cuff that hoe Come around here, she gettin' fucked on

Think I'm from the D because I always got these buffs on
Catch a fade tryna fight cuz he got his buff on
He keep a .40 on me like Marv Heav and Tuff Ho

Written by:
Calvin Davis, Gladstine Rodney, Stanley Cox

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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