Dave East, French Montana and Harry Fraud - Count It Up

Too many grown-ass men feel like somebody owe 'em something
Last time I checked, it's the same twenty-four hours every day, nigga
What you doin' with it?
(La Música de Harry Fraud) count it up

Tryna fade us with that quarantine
Left the game, and left a tab
Robbed the bank without the mask
And told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up
I be shootin' from half
Not the front, we use the back
And told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up, ayy (let's go)

It wasn't no Hi-Tech, we Wock' it up
I never could side with them niggas
We come from the same shit, but I went and got it up
You play with the family, we tie you up
All that I know is go count it up
Twenty hoes in the Sprinter let's round 'em up
Let's go slide on them niggas, you down or what?
We was fuckin' housin' up
I only buy weed as I'm countin' up
I came a long way from the kitchen
And whipped New Edition, I went Bobby Brown on 'em
I pulled up with shottas
Before the Dior shit we used to do Prada
It ain't no more Ramadas
Now they follow me, I feel like Elijah
She callin' me daddy, but I'm not her father (I'm not)
I'm with the fade like a barber, buggin' out
They ain't 'bout that paper, we cut em out
How you a gangster? You want the clout
We voted to pack 'em, we want 'em out
You tryna walk, niggas run you out
Her ass was fat, but I want her mouth
We count it up while y'all runnin' out
Dead homies

Tryna fade us with that quarantine
Left the game, and left a tab
Robbed the bank without the mask
And told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up
I be shootin' from half
Not the front, we use the back
And told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up

Ayy, top, número uno
Not Jason Derulo
Cop that, swerve, from that curb
Behind that curve, designers, curse
But stoppin' that wave even more
Drinkin' that Holy Water
Titles were paid for foreigns
Makin' my mils in order
From the ground, hot sauce, brown bag nacho
South Bronx chopper, your flow sound knock-off
Fuck it, you make it, you lose it
Long as them youngins are drippin' and cruisin'
Bustin' down onions, that raw, that sushi
Talkin' them guns and fades like Boosie
Strippers floor moppin', South Bronx blockin'

Tryna fade us with that quarantine
Left the game, and left a tab
Robbed the bank without the mask
And told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up
I be shootin' from half
Not the front, we use the back
And told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up
Told 'em count it up, ayy

Written by:
David Brewster, Karim Kharbouch, Matthew Carrillo, Michael Kuzoian, Rory William Quigley, Westen Broek Weiss

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave

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