[Chorus]
Lord, I need some commas on my bank account
Dollars, yeah, a big amount
All these n***as passin' by, goin' up
They don't even need to know what's rap to be blowin' up
Guess I should be droppin' lines like commas on my bank account
Dollars, yeah, a big amount
All these n***as passin' by, goin' up
They don't even need to know what's rap to be blowin' up
Guess I should be dropping lines like commas on my bank account
Dollars, yeah, a big amount
All these n***as passin' by, goin' up
They don't even need to know what's rap to be blowin' up
Guess I should be dropping lines like commas on my bank account
Dollars, yeah, a big amount
All these n***as passin' by, goin' up
They don't even need to know what's rap to be blowin' up
Guess I should be dropping lines like—

[Verse]
Fuck them Gucci, Louis pants
I don't give a fuck 'bout no stupid brands
N***a got his own style from the motherland
Your baby mama can't stop with that cuddlin'
Work that coochie 'til it's red
That's why she doesn't talk to her stupid mans
Her belly full of my guys, now they're puddlin'
She ain't even my type, bro, it's troublin'
[Pre-Chorus]
Too much, I don't know how to stop (Come here)
New crush, damn, they all wanna fuck (Tommy)
Do a bunch, then I'm back on my stuff (Plottin')
Few of us, just a few for a spot (I'm comin')

[Chorus]
Lord, I need some commas on my bank account
Dollars, yeah, a big amount
All these n***as passin' by, goin' up
They don't even need to know what's rap to be blowin' up
Guess I should be droppin' lines like commas on my bank account
Dollars, yeah, a big amount
All these n***as passin' by, goin' up
They don't even need to know what's rap to be blowin' up
Guess I should be dropping lines like—