[Intro]
Chilling and killing

[Chorus]
They still printing money try and get you some
They still making guns go on and get you one
I suggest you get you one
I suggest you get you one
They still printing money try and get you some
They still making guns go on and get you one
I suggest you get you one
I suggest you get you one

[Verse 1]
Blue hunnid dollar bills you think I’m cripping
Banana on a stick you think I’m slipping
Booty big, softer than ma leather seats
Quick, to slap you with my hand
Bout ma paper feet swinging
Chicken solo fake one you a duck back
He took it home and opened it like what the fuck n***a
Insta-thugging thinking I won’t set them up
I send my bitch in yo DM and get you stuck yeah
I’m mack daddy, I’m dack strap
I’m dat riddy shout out ma n***a mustard heavy that
I got a itchy trigger finger itching constant
I’m still that junky jilt that lost his conscience
[Chorus]
They still printing money try and get you some
They still making guns go on and get you one
I suggest you get you one
I suggest you get you one
They still printing money try and get you some
They still making guns go on and get you one
I suggest you get you one
I suggest you get you some

[Verse 2]
I’m still jamming plugs and I ain’t running off
A n***a got asthma I can’t run that long
Ima shove this fucking tech right down your fucking neck
Ima catch a charge hit the boss calling home collect (hello)
Six figure bond paid it like a bond
My co-defendant pussy and he played the part
I did voodoo and the victim never came to court
Bitch n***a be the one I put the makeup on
They never stop making guns get you one
They never stop making ones get you some
Got a empty stomach with a full ranch
Ima hit you up and I don’t care who watching

[Chorus]
They still printing money try and get you some
They still making guns go on and get you one
I suggest you get you one
I suggest you get you one
They still printing money try and get you some
They still making guns go on and get you one
I suggest you get you one
I suggest you get you some
[Verse 3]
I got the AK-47 from the devil himself
Got this pot from the D-Boy who serving 30 to death
Trapped out my mama house till she found my bond
My big cousin said fuck it come and count these ones
So much money in my face look like I ran in the bank
I was only 15 whipping a 4 in the saint
You outta sync petty paper bitch we after the brink
I’m from the slums full of drugs n***as die by the link
Got a hunnid round extendo even when it ain’t beef
Still fucking up foreigns even when it ain’t lease
Shout out to the robbers who still think I’m a slip
And shout out to the choppers with the tape on the clip

[Chorus]
They still printing money try and get you some
They still making guns go on and get you one
I suggest you get you one
I suggest you get you some