Hell Is You On

Lyrics

[Intro] Aye, Aye [Chorus] Money calling I be up in the morning Money calling best believe that I'm on it You ain't getting money what the hell is you on? They ain't give nothing to me I got it on my own (Hey!) Smoking a blunt of the propane Cookie came from the coast We live in Gucci, I Gucci my toes I wear the Gucci, it's straight out the store Whipping that foreign got road rage I might flex on a hoe Gotta keep flexing them days I was broke Wifey keep texting keep that on the low [Hook] I can't be stressing, I just get the dough, man In the Bentley look like cocaine Why he talking he a no-name 30's cook em' up like Lo Mein I'm on some other shit They say they balling they really be fumbling I might fuck her and say that I'm done with it I put the gang on the map and they loving it Hey, I went through pain for the racks she can't touch em, nah She hop in the V, give me jaw We rockin' the lean get it all I hear the hate and can't hear them at all I know they with it but I cannot fall They like "Hood Favorite that money get tall" Straight from the pavement boy don't get involved She let me glaze it I don't even call Imma hit it, dish it off; Chris Paul Off the Henny I don't want, Crystal Niggas' playing like they tough, they soft Me and money had a marriage, I got a bad bitch, ass fat she embarrassed Call her anything but average, paper be stacking Add that to the carriage [Chorus] (Aye),Money calling I be up in the morning Money calling best believe that I'm on it You ain't getting money what the hell is you on? They ain't give nothing to me I got it on my own (Hey!) Smoking a blunt of the propane Cookie came from the coast We live in Gucci, I Gucci my toes I wear the Gucci, it's straight out the store Whipping that foreign got road rage I might flex on a hoe Gotta keep flexing them days I was broke Wifey keep texting keep that on the low