OG Win - God Money Mobbin (Radio Edit)

Yea
Uh
Uh

The only time you niggas wipe a Nigga nose is when your cousin sleeping
I got a girl still got twenty hoes boy it's cuffing season
Real Zoe's really whacking Shit give a fuck the reason
Go ahead put your gun away you ain't gonna need it
If I do a show and something missing boy ain't nothing leaving
Come to your house and air it out til it's nothing breathing
Little niggas diss me on a song
Can't believe em
Diss me on a track we dropping bombs now we fucking even
Gang shit
Niggas say they packing they ain't bang shit
Okay you got a full clip boy we got the same shit
You lame jit I bag your main bitch and who she hang with I train
Shit have em both sucking on the same dick
I'm in ya state
36 ounces white like paper plates
You better pray OG better not see no niggas face to face
I pocket 8 sliding in a rocket I was up to date
Bussing no discussion is we fucking I ain't up for dates
Choo choo
My blood see me they like Su Woo
My crip niggas like who you
My Zoe's really got that voodoo
God money niggas and we shoot to
I'm the leader of the new school
I'm the ones them boys salute too
Man you little niggas goof troops

Niggas I was sliding on em
Sliding on em
Vibing on em
Vibing on em
Uh uh
OG Win plotting on em
OG Win plotting
Leave his chest throbbing
Leave a Nigga throbbing
Make a Nigga throw his own vomit on em
Wilding on em
Wilding on em
Rhyming on em
Rhyming on em
God money mobbin on em
Don't make me brang the squad
They said I'm sleeping but I'm nodding on em
Them Niggas going hard
I sip this liquor to my liver go rotten on em

I can't fuck no regular bitches them hoes bummy
My little niggas wiping your nose your shit was runny
I was with my wildcats just like Kentucky
This money make my enemies
Act just like we buddies
I done fucked up the money and the plug still front me
Still see junkies in my dreams still haunt me
9's and them 10's all my hoes still love me
I done fucked all her friends and the bitch still love me
I done slid in a benz in a two door dummy
Top models red bottoms everything bloody
Top dollar baby bottles all the cups muddy
To keep it real I ain't give them bitches nothing
Nigga mafia niggas looking broke ewww not with us boxing up
I was at the trap spot chopping up watching for any Nigga
Looking out binoculars crack rock ask bout why my name popping up

Niggas I was sliding on em
Sliding on em
Vibing on em
Vibing on em
Uh uh
OG Win plotting on em
OG Win plotting
Leave his chest throbbing
Leave a Nigga throbbing
Make a Nigga throw his own vomit on em
Wilding on em
Wilding on em
Rhyming on em
Rhyming on em
God money mobbin on em
Don't make me send them shottas on em
They talking beef shit nigga and I tried to warn em

Written by:
Winder Polynice

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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