[Intro]
Tri$ten

[Chorus]
My heart cold, mind gone
With a mouth full of gold
I’m a doughboy gettin' money all that I know
Self-made bread winner no one showed me the ropes
The Don dada, shot caller, no one puttin' me on
I ain’t worry bout a soul, boy I stay with a po‘
If anybody finna’ Bol then his body get rolled
Ion’ care bout’ opinions I just say what I know
I’m a doughboy get it til’ the day that I’m gone

[Verse 1]
I make M’s not friends so our circle is closed
Real doughboy gettin’ money all that I know
I could flip a hunnid’ times and I still need mo’
Go getter, bread winner, bitch I fiend for the dough
First time I touch 10’s said I need 10 more
Throw some bands up in the trap, get it back 10 fold
I’m a hustler and a playa bitch I play both roles
I gotta love hate relationship with money and hoes
I know the real gon relate
I know the fake gon’ hate
Praise the motherfuckin' real, if you ain't then you late
All the lames speaking on me cause I do what they can’t
Every time I make a flip I put some bands in a safe
I make plays count cake off of the risks that I take
I can hear yo stomach achin' cause the risk ain’t made
Big bank or little bank, what the fuck do ya’ think
If you ain’t adding you subtracting, get the fuck out the way
[Chorus]
My heart cold, mind gone
With a mouth full of gold
I’m a doughboy getting money all that I know
Self-made bread winner no one showed me the ropes
The Don dada, shot caller, no one puttin' me on
I ain’t worry bout a soul, boy I stay with a po‘
If anybody finna’ Bol then his body get rolled
Ion’ care bout’ opinions I just say what I know
I’m a doughboy get it til’ the day that I’m gone

[Verse 2]
And for these dead presidents, we knock his head off his throat
Five piece, one play, you ain't seen that before
Whatchu need, bet I got it, come and cop for the low
I'm either runnin up a check, or with the work on the road
I could teach you 30 times how to ball like a pro
And I could teach you 30 mo' and you'd still be broke
I flip a gram to a O, turn a bitch to a hoe
Only dollas making sense and that's all that I know
Ima fiend for the guap, bitch I'm part of the mob
I count cake, runnin' clocks, swear this shit don't stop
Gotta dolla from a dime and started huggin' the block
Since then, past 10, I've been thumbin' through knots
I been on top, the opps really been all talk
I can tell he pump fakin' from the way that he walk
Pave lanes, make change, that's the way I was taught
Applying pressure out they necks, till they line me in chalk
(That's on the mob)
[Chorus]
My heart cold, mind gone
With a mouth full of gold
I’m a doughboy getting money all that I know
Self-made bread winner no one showed me the ropes
The Don dada, shot caller, no one puttin' me on
I ain’t worry bout a soul, boy I stay with a po‘
If anybody finna’ Bol then his body get rolled
Ion’ care bout’ opinions I just say what I know
I’m a doughboy get it til’ the day that I’m gone