Cash BFD - Bar King

A'yo its not muscle pains but nigga I'm back spazzin
You rap has been ill come through with the Mac blasting
Its not Craig either nigga I spread heaters
You'll see shells over cheese like its velveeta
You hustling now so where them xan's at
You got it for the low word, than where the tan at
I know some social media thugs that pull them cans back
Send a bunch of niggas to follow you where them grams at
Oh, they let it blow in a casket you will go
Like Cardi B don't make me bring the ratchet to ya show
Word, I been with the birds you been in the burbs
You think you ballin till I put you on injured reserve
Debo me, buck fifty slice on ya neck
I ain't gotta be ezel to put this knife to ya chest
Im like that you swing on me I fight back
You see ya baby moms up in my v I piped that
For my fam you might catch me dumping off the Glock
Or like creed you might catch me punching for my pops
One 25 on me right in front of the Apollo
You gone get it like Apollo ima hit you hard as Drago
Sheesh when we let nines pop they won't find ya body till the ps5 drop
So take it easy cause thinking you sick nigga
Get lined up with rounds to ya head like a stick figure
New chrome in the bag I been shopping
Like a zit on a nigga face I been popping
Niggas talk that murder one shit when they pen jotting
Fantastic with the 4 y'all the niggas I been rocking
On the block heat under the chairs
Ill call the fool he'll put ya people under the stairs
Who that cash? oh yea that's me BFD you know the Harlem world OG
Uh you know I get cream and you know I spit mean
I could kill a nigga hunnit bars with a sixteen
If you need grams I'm the man wit it
I started off young my nigga and ran wit it
Im smart tho never hand to hand wit it
I been doing this since Rosanne let dan hit it
Hoes lose they mind when they see me in the Porsche
All they wanna do is give ya boy intercourse
Forget ya ex man cause you know I been a boss
Watch got diamonds in the face like Emma frost
They wanna brawl wit me they want war wit me
They must not know that I got my 4 wit me
You got guns than you better let ya 4 hit me
Ill blast you in a different world so you could call Whitley
We got weed in jars and its all sticky
I chop rocks and got blocks of raw wit me
I don't need a body guard I used to call Whitney
She copped it all at once we got it off quickly
But if you snitch when we take ya damn order
We gone pause and edit ya life like camcorders
We used to sell on the dips strip but cam caught us
He gave me some of his work I push cam quarters
These rap dudes is gettin me pissed Ock
If I ask em for the time I'm taking his wrist watch
And these dudes don't wanna see my clips drop
Cause ill put the gun in his mouth so he can lick shots
So you better stop talking bout who you hawking out
Before I bring that Larkin out and you ain't walking out
When I pop niggas you know that the gat is tossed
Talking who you clapping boss you sweeter than apple sauce
Ya name out fam but I got a bigger buzz
Ya guns shoot blanks man you ain't getting slugs
So if they hawk don't do it you know the smiffin does
So stop with all that flossing and let me get ya studs
You don't want me to abuse these punks ill use the pump
Not skipping but you'll lose ya fronts when its beef you know I hold that clip
Its like the movie about digging cause that's how many holes you'll get
Everybody wanna borrow kid
Cause they see I got a chain and had ice man way before marvel did
I ain't liar man i spit fire man and ya girl slid down my pole like a fire man
And every nigga wanna see me B but only time they saw beef was on a DVD
I ain't rich so I aint wasting stuff
But I'm tryna make it so I ca say I been around the world like Mase and puff
Yea I been in divas and my gun came with 64 cartridges
And I don't mean Nintendo either
I keep a gauge in still so if you hating still
Razor will raise your grill and leave you on the pavement still
Nigga its cash GANG

Written by:
Curtis Little

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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