kriss mag

Lyrics

[Chorus] Real money makers startin' to think that I'm the shit I got real guns, you prolly think of empty clip, yeah I can't even fuck up with that hoe, she stay up on my dick I got like 40 fuckin' shots, they click up in my stick Yeah, yeah, I love my fuckin' bitch I love my fuckin' blick, like, bitch, that's all I fuckin' need I got fans around the state, like bitch it's fuckin' time we meet Say my fuckin' name too much, got 30 [?] came with [?] Like can you stop, just, like, talkin' on me, let me be [Verse] Ah, I ride with pole Like please don't call my phone if it ain't bout that dough Baby, I got money, I think we can roll Baby, I got money, pockets are tall