We Got Dat

(Holiday Season, nigga! Ay)
What up, Chubbie? Haha!
I see you getting money, nigga!
They say you run Ohio, nigga!
I fuck wit you! What up ‘Bachi?
Let’s go! DJ Holiday!
Shoutout my nigga Tity Boi! My nigga Dolla!
Southside, stand up! We working!
(The Aphilliates, nigga)
I know what y’all thinking!
Are we ever gon’ let up?
Why though? Ain’t nobody else gon’ do it!
Shit! We getting money, let’s go!
(Pay close fuckin’ attention)

(yeah) Everything I drive real fast
Had to let my chick drive
‘cause that bitch real bad
First I let her drive it
Then I let her ride me
I charged a nigga $40
000 just to stand beside me
(yeah) Now that’s a stupid check
Gave 40 to Tity Boi and now
I got that stupid pack
On I20 wit duffle bags, yeah, I shock a bitch
(Chaka)
Two million dollars cash money, damn, man
That’s ludicrous i love to ball wit bougie
Broads, it’s big Gucci, yeah I’m a dog
A photoshoot off in the vocal booth
‘nough ice for all of y’all
Ten bricks outta fishscale
Same color as Paul Wall
Took off all the burglar bars
You know what we doin’, dawg

Every day I’m stunting dawg
Money ain’t really nothin’ dawg
Ya boyfriend riding the bus so you
Need to ride with us, aww
(We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero
We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero) i can’t leave that trap alone
He can’t leave that trap alone
We can’t leave that trap alone
Never gon’ leave that trap alone
(We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero
We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero)

Apple-red coupe, Jolly Rancher rims
63 on the vent, that’s a super-charged Benz
With the Big Apple plate and yeah
He cost me some ends
New chopper in the trunk that’ll
Chop down ya friends
And my Boost phone jump soon
I touch in Columbus
Man, that pearly white on deck
The Northside do numbers
True Religions on my ass, wrist on froze
Me and Gucci hit Velvet and pop thirty Ropes
If you short six grand, man
You getting 30 o’s when I re-up, man
It look like I did thirty shows
In the morning count us doling
While you niggas throwing ‘bows
And the coupe on autopilot
You see how it floats?

Every day I’m stunting dawg
Money ain’t really nothin’ dawg
Ya boyfriend riding the bus so you
Need to ride with us, aww
(We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero
We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero) i can’t leave that trap alone
He can’t leave that trap alone
We can’t leave that trap alone
Never gon’ leave that trap alone
(We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero
We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero)

I got that Pyrex vision
All we talk is chickens
I love my stove so much I
Got a bed in my kitchen
A fine red girl give me head in the kitchen
If a nigga try to rob me
He’ll be dead in the kitchen
I’m stunting with my shirt off
My girl like Smirnoff
We get that dough for cheap-cheap
My nigga that’s bird talk
Then I pull that ‘vert out
I’m wit my girlfriend too
Rims so tall it make my
Car look like it’s 6’2"
Smoking on a Vic too, louder than my trunk is
I’m wit Gucci Mane
I let Gucci do the ad-libs
Getting to that bread, that check, that mula
We teach you niggas how to stunt
We tutor the juniors

Every day I’m stunting dawg
Money ain’t really nothin’ dawg
Ya boyfriend riding the bus so you
Need to ride with us, aww
(We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero
We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero) i can’t leave that trap alone
He can’t leave that trap alone
We can’t leave that trap alone
Never gon’ leave that trap alone
(We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero
We get that mula, that bread, that guap
Dinero)