New Money $quad - Wicked

Yeah, yeah, yeah
New Money $quad, you know what’s going on
Doughboi, J Loud, Kid 901
Finna cut up
Gang, gang, gang
All of my niggas go stupid
Some of my niggas, they ruthless
All of my niggas, they shooters
Sneak up on you, peek-a-boo, and I’ll shoot you
I’m a real nigga, lil’ nigga, you a booster
Any nigga try to step to me, they need a booster
Got your girl hollerin’ like a muhfuckin’ rooster
She got a big piece, so you know I had to juice her
I’m really ‘bout it, so please do not push me
Boy, you got hoe in yo blood, so that make you a pussy
I see the hate and it’s all in yo face
And I don’t hang with rats and I don’t hang with snakes
Only get to the bread then them bitches gon’ chase
My nigga got a heart like he fighting a case
Nowadays, niggas hate with a passion
She got a big piece, so you know I had to grab it
She said she gon’ leave, but bitch, I can manage
Talkin’ 21, but I’m really a savage
If he want it, any nigga can have it
Doughboi
Yeah, yeah
They callin’ my phone, I got the strike on deck
Shot the nigga in his neck
Then it traveled to his chest
Pussy poppin’, so I leave the pussy nigga wet
Lot on my mind, I been doing fine
I stay getting money, I stayed on the grind
Broke the bank, boy, you thought I was lying
Get done like a shirt, boy, you gon’ feel this iron
Stupid nigga think I pulled the trigger
But I beat the nigga to go get the figures
Call up brodie and we rollin’ four deep
In a Chevy rental, but that’s confidential
Couple of black niggas in the trap house
Brought the bags when we walked out
Double back, never leave a rat
‘Cause he seen my face, I can’t catch a case
I know what they plotting, but they cannot stop me
We stay to ourselves, but they think that we cocky
Advise you don’t play
Get popped like a molly or perc or whatever you take
We murder beats, this shit not a mistake
A piece of the pie, fuck that shit, I want some cake
Applying pressure everyday
We going ape, yeah, we going ape, ayy
Ayy, came off the bench like a rookie
With all of that new type of shit
Right off the top, how your girl riding dick
Yo girl in my racecar bed, she driving stick
Write ‘til my hand making ashes
Igniting the flame ‘til it’s catching
I’m lighting the game like some matches
I’m fighting yo man and he dashing
‘Cause they got the lights on they cameras, it’s action
Opening Snap and they turning on flash and recording the shit
Leave yo shit unattended because someone mentioned me
And realized your music be boring as shit
New Money came in like Jordan in 1-9-9-6
Return of the GOATs in this bitch
Popping shit off ‘til they ducking and dipping
They running like there was a ghost in this bitch, they trippin’
Falling like they shot the shit and they bricking
Took the shit, dished it to me, I’m assisting
Standing right next to a great like you Pippen
Play with the bull, get the horns, you a chicken
Dropped in the hole that you digging’
Way deeper than yo bitch the homies been fishing’s’, huh
She heard yo shit and she wiggin’, huh
She heard our shit and she missin’
When we in the kitchen, was serving and flippin’
And poppin’ like shit in the skillet
All of my lyrics been stickin’, that shit from a snippet
That lasted like less than a minute
Hoe had a limit that short like a midget
That bitch had a height start with negative digits
That’s how you know I been drippin’
And treating the track like a ticket
I rip it, I rip it, I’m wicked
Bitch

Written by:
Joel Jones, Josh Booker, Zach Gilliland

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, O/B/O DistroKid

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