Intro

Doughboyz Cashout
2676 Mafia
Scales in the kitchen
Yeah
Money on the countertops
Doughboyz

Verse 1

Thumbs sore, from counting my pros
Got scales on the counter couple bands on the stove
Couple bags full of O’s
Bout to drop them off on Strathmoor
Fuck a bitch then drop her off
She text me like “you asshole”
I stack though
Off of [?] sales, you tell fairytales
Ball up in the club with the kush and the Burberry smell
Drought on the trees, then I switch up and pump blow
Nine in the cabinet keep the pump by the front door
[?] got these hoes tryna fuck four
Doughboyz at the same time, Gucci on the waistline
Paid got them bands
What you heard through the grape vine?
Hoes in the tip case a n***a try to take mine
Ain’t dog food, no K9’s, my goons [?]
A bitch n***a face tryna run off with a shape
A circle or a square or them green rectangles
Run up on me with that bullshit the goons gon’ paint you
Chorus

I got scales in the kitchen, money on the counter
My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter
(Scales in the kitchen, money on the counter)
(My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter)
I got scales in the kitchen, money on the counter
My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter
(Scales in the kitchen, money on the counter)
(My thumbs too sore think I need a money counter)

Verse 2

We get it in, and break it down
We weigh it up, and ship it out
Ain’t talking bout money then you can cut it out
Got killers that’ll hit your front door, like a paper route
We ain’t got shit to prove, voila
It’s magic by the way the work move, voila
Put me anywhere I can work, Wi-Fi
Now your bitch choosin’ a n***a, say bye
She love the way I’m doing it she love the way my jewelry [?]
She say what she gon’ do to me, imma just wait and see
I-96 equals head on the freeway
I think it’s cause I hustle and flow, DJ
Y’all n***as middle manning the [?], splitting three ways
I can take a hundred out the crib for one hundred straight days
Hustling, so I wear my Trues three straight days
Chances make champions n***a, plus this shit pays
Chorus

I got scales in the kitchen, money on the counter
My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter
(Scales in the kitchen, money on the counter)
(My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter)
I got scales in the kitchen, money on the counter
My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter
(Scales in the kitchen, money on the counter)
(My thumbs too sore think I need a money counter)

Verse 3

Getting head from Monica while looking at the monitor
Money on the countertop, trash bags fuck the Prada box that’s not a lot
Money, Doughboyz got a lot
So much dough I gotta drop
All that ice he got a watch
She won’t let go of my dick you need to let go of that bitch
Stacks bulging out my pants and I’m blowin’ like a fan
Hoes knowin’ I’m the man
Fuck a bitch I’d rather go out with my bands
Hit the bar and show off with my mans
Thank god for money counters, my hands, they so tired
I fucked a bitch til a hoe tired
I swear I can’t get no higher
I count money and smoke fire
All I need is shooters, money, money counters and scales
I count the money up too short, the money counter will tell
You goin’ broke? Oh well
This for my n***as doin’ wholesales
Ain’t got time to take no L’s
We got the city locked no sales
(For my n***as doin’ wholesales)
(Ain’t got time to take no L’s)
(We got the city locked no sales)
Chorus


I got scales in the kitchen, money on the counter
My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter
(Scales in the kitchen, money on the counter)
(My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter)
I got scales in the kitchen, money on the counter
My thumbs too sore I think I need a money counter
(Scales in the kitchen, money on the counter)
(My thumbs too sore think I need a money counter)