U see my girl legs open better smash that, don’t be surprised if she ask where the cash at/I’m on the rise like the NASDAQ, and yall left behind yall a bunch of asscracks/ Baby I Pledge I’ma hardwood wax that, deeper and longer than a muthafuckin Tampax, and yo bitch a junkie, yeah her man’s a flunky, and yall mismatch…like Brewster Punkie/ I mean Punkie Brewster, nigga u’sa loser, U popeye no spinach, and I’m Bluto bitch a bruiser/ Except, fuck Olive oil ol’ skinny hoe, I smashed Betty Boop face down and now her eyes swole/ I’m just talkin, foolin my nigga, where the cash with yo broke ass, who you foolin my nigga?/ I’m so sick I gotta personal medic, and so much cashflow, Bitch I gotta Person on credit/ Where the cash AT?
Where the Cash AT? (repeat)
See my purpose electric, and you perpin… pathetic/shit get ta poppin like Orville, but you ain’t Redding/ U ain’t READY… I got Solange in a chevy, Nicki Minaj wig, high heels and she just got a petti….Cure/ And I’m pretty foul, fuckin over these lil niggas just like a pedophile/ If they say I ain’t kill it, then they ass is in denial/ Got sooo much flow, I could fuckin drown the Nile/ What I rep 7mile, what I got that West Nile, Ebola epidemic, fuck the haters and the cynics/ When I ask for my critics, audiences turn to crickets/ cuz if they want mortis (more dis), I’ll bring the rickets/ Rigor mortis, if you think I’m distorted, then un-fan me and report it/ We can get the beef started, this uncut/ So when I Blow u can snort it, until then, Shut the Fuck UP! and answer the Chorus/ Where the Cash AT?
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