[Verse 1]
Shit I’ll probably pull two hundred thousand out this pandemic
And I rock more jewels than Santana
Amari jeans $1100 just for bandanas
Ain’t trying to talk about no pape
Cuz we been running
A hundred thousand cramp your hand
Bitch we been thumbing
Stayed down for a year ball for ten summers
Me and Marty carry bags bitch we been hustling
Now me and Marty popping tags
Y’all don’t spend nothing
Smoke you on Friday I think I’m Chris Tucker
Everybody can’t come in
We counting big money
N***as don’t care about the bag
When they don’t risk nothing
N***as don’t care about the tag
We you getting money
My little n***as 18 and they up a hundred
If you come out this shit broke
You don’t want no money
I come in your bitch throat
She don’t want for nothing
The pricеs jumped up in the City like wе in the country
I think these n***as flashing money ain’t getting money
If I balk across
I see demons sleep I think the reaper
If a n***a owe me something tell him keep the money
Tell him keep the money
Fuck Covid-19
N***a the trap still open
N***a my people still serving
And they call this rich rollin
Break down the bale and Rollie
Let the weed dry leave it open
Stack that cheese up put it en motion
All my weed fly come from Oakland
Gotta reach your goal n***a focus
Gotta leave these hoes n***a notice
Run that shit they gone be open
This shit come with it
If the hood get behind
You better run with it
And they know me in my town
As they one n***a
Fifty n***as but they got a hundred guns with them
When old n***as pass them torch to them young n***as
Easy Money