MoneyMarc - 4th Quarter

All right, let's get it, been spazzin' for a minute
When they see me out in person, they're like, damn, kid, you did it
I been makin' songs and slippin' strong, damn, I admit it
And I been that same nigga, young, savage, with the fitted
I be stuck right in between, go shoot, they block, or stay acquitted
Felt impossible to win, cause all the sins that I committed
Make it happen, countin' stacks, I can't be fuckin' up my digits
If you lackin', then it's crackin', see, his wig, we gotta split it
Independent, ran this shit up independent
Against the ropes, but I'm the hope, I'm gon' be richer than lieutenant
Ain't no label independent, I got problems savin' money like the spend it
We got problems, let them have it, see, they block, we gotta bend it
See this Glock, we gotta send it, if I said it, then I meant it
I'm never runnin' out of bars, so give it up, I recommend it
Play with pistols, they'll hit you, slide on us, won't recommend it
Must be lyrics in this lemonade, I feel like Cole Bennett
I got used to her dependin' on me, beggin' me to send it
In the shit right on my sleeve, I cannot hide, I can't pretend it
We'll hit you and your man, them niggas started, so we end it
Glock 9s, we got plenty, shooters a shoot without a penny
I was broke still, tryin' to get a bro in jail, some money
I was broke still, tryin' to get his hoe out here, some money
Now I got a lot of money, and my money never funny
We'll kidnap Sonny, bitch, I'm Howard F. Dunham
On they ass, I came from doin' bad, but now my spaz comin
On the grind from night to day, ain't gettin' no sleep like I'm a mummy
If you wanna go and get it, niggas duckin' from the money
Money, mom, forever chasin', I don't care about what I'm facin
Got me back on my bully, though, paper thick like cookie, though
Meet me halfway, you'll get hit with a fully, though
Really, though, started rappin' fire, thanks to Millie, though
She wanna be with me, but fuckin' niggas, she a silly hoe
Put that shit aside and get this money, though, really, though
Million dollars worth of games, shoutout my nigga, Gilly, though
Your friends, they keep you stagnant while the strangers get you rich
Mention me, but never step to me, nigga, you a bitch
Signin' papers, givin' hints out, nigga, you a snitch
Nigga, that's a bitch, uh, now you in a ditch, uh
Steppin' on these niggas, know my name, I feel like Mitch, uh
Now I feel like Mitch, uh

Written by:
Marcus Watson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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