Slim, Ice Berg - Andre Money

I'm like nigga fuck it
We out in public with my buddy
Tryna to get in some tropicana flavor
My lil buddy rolling papers
I told her quick she not my bitch
She only in it for chips
I fuck her quick then do my thang
And then she don't exist

I'm like nigga fuck it...
We out in public and I'm smoking on some-
Fucking onion...
Back roll on a hunnit pockets on a hunnit
Stank hoes they keep coming
I don't want you honey

I don't want ya bitch...
I don't want the bitch
I can't fuck with non of these niggas...
They be on the same shit. They all on some-
Lame shit. What's in your brain, shit?
She sweet like a danish...
She feeling the language...
Top speed yeah that's me nigga got rank
Before I pull to the house you know I stop
At the bank. Weed bag full of stank
All I know stack and maintain...
You see me I'm stacking my change

Big hank pockets look like I robbed the bank
Gas bag and it stank smelling like the drain
Switching lanes and the rain driving a fucking
Range, a lot of pain in my vein make the trap
Insane

Written by:
DeAndre Brown, Marquis Barnes

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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