Money Shot

Lyrics

[Intro: Robb Bank$] I ain't heard these headphones loud in so long (Oogie Mane, he killed it) (I think I might be happy) Yeah, uh, uh, uh-huh Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh-huh Yeah, yeah, uh-huh Yeah, yeah, yeah, (Wokkk wokkk wokkk) [Chorus: Robb Bank$] Pull up back on 'em (Yeah) Turn up, spaz on 'em (Yeah) Hold up, bags on 'em (Yuh) Uh-huh, flash on 'em (Yuh, yuh, yuh) Racks on me, spot him, got him, headshot him (SSET, SSET, SSET) Tell him go dig up his dead partner Pouring up Tech out the glass bottle, no problem (Whooooo) [Verse: Robb Bank$] Get down, bah New TEC now with the swiss cheese nozzle Coming for the get back, full throttle Hе tryna run away zigzag, still shot him In the 250 Bent' coupe Onе Addy, I don't know 'bout no murder, naptime I take the whole Perc' 15, I'm flying And I'm all 'bout my Curren$y like I'm Young Roddy (Phew) Set it up, Femto, go get 'em Hold up, bitch, I ain't ready (Woo) Eighteen K for the presi' (Woo) These fuck niggas plush, they teddies (Woo) To the dope, say Femto sent you (Yuh) Eeny-miny-moe with these bitches (Huh) Kill your mama and your girl, it's just business (Tuh) I work your bitch out with the fitness I'm the future, past, present, I fuck up your Christmas In 2012, chopped up the bricks like confetti I meant it, I said it, if you ain't 'bout it, dead it 'Cause you ain't finna like where I take it, don't tempt me, uh She bow in front the dick like sensei, uh And your mouth, know it taste like candy, uh I dunk on your bitch like N'Kembe, uh I'ma need you to show me what the head like, uh I'm the head outcast, uh And I raw dog every time, uh Got clapped like ten times Yeah, headshot, bitch, bedtime Pimp my new bitch, made headlines When in two to three years, bitch, fed time Yeah, know I break hearts every time, yeah Tesla, Bentley, Lambo', Benz me Pink slip, renty, she got good credit Mani-Pedi, Femto petty Fuck your bestie, she wasn't even ready Tell everybody bet on me I took the bricks to Kissimmee Missionary while she kiss on me I fucked her then she couldn't sleep They geeking off the energy I met him at the Embassy That .38, it's still on me if I see an enemy Wait, wait, hold on, what the fuck you talking 'bout, son? Who the fuck niggas that you brought with you, son? Up top, I let my Bronx bitch fuck in Timbs and a durag, talk that talk Word to mother, B, I ain't feeling that, son Wet a nigga up, hope you brought your gun Raised y'all niggas so I call you son Block action, y'all talk too much [Chorus: Robb Bank$] Pull up back on 'em (Yeah) Turn up, spaz on 'em (Yeah) Hold up, bags on 'em (Yuh) Uh-huh, flash on 'em (Yuh, yuh, yuh) Racks on me, spot him, got him, headshot him (SSET, SSET, SSET) Tell him go dig up his dead partner Pouring up Tech out the glass bottle, no problem (Whooooo)