[Chorus: Talley of 300]
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
[Verse 1: Talley of 300]
Money on my mind, picture dollar signs
If they chuck em out its fine must been out of line
Must be out your fuckin' mind and collide with mine
You'll be with the fucking dead like you sodomize
If not now paying time like you got a fine
Find exactly where you dyin, soon as you recline
That look I see in your eye don't mean no surprise
And right before you see the dark you gone' know the light
My fuego rock his cradle
Ima light his top up just like candles on a table
Should've knew better than stepping out here in that water Fredo
Bet this pump gone em leave looking like he been hit by tomatoes
Fucking clown, nothing funny now
Touchdown on the prowl, when I come in town
Hunt em down, Gun em down with 100 rounds
Blaw its not a sound when I come around
[Chorus: Talley of 300]
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
[Verse 2: $avage]
Wings up!
MOB!
I was born a sinner Imma die a winner
Just know I'm ridin with my n***as till we cross the finish
Bitch I'm Popeye on that spinach when it come to bidness'
Slide that clip in Nina let her blow your ass some kisses
Bow! Bow! That's my bitch n***a
And she ain't never hesitate to pop that pussy on bitch n***a
My side ho is thick, I keep 50 in the clip
Pull up on a n***a with the mask on like Link
8 ball corner pocket when I drop you that's it
Like he rocking balmain how a n***a getting zipped
I ain't talking ounces, shotty bounce em then he getting flipped
Then its game over like its Lil Flip
I'm Satchmo when I let that gat blow
I'm like Kobe ill give you 60 for that Jazz load
That's 2 30s sticking out like a bitch with ass though
Fuck that bitch and kick her out
Get back to that cash flow
[Chorus: Talley of 300]
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
[Verse 3: Montana of 300]
We gone' get the cream like a fucking rash
Hulk Hogan with the stash, hold the gun and cash
Take away his future leave him in the past
Pull my mac on you dummies you don't want to crash
We gone run it up yea, Forest Gump
Pockets got the mumps fatter than the clumps
All that talking tough that'll get you slumped
Hop out, up the pump squeeze it fill em up
Then ill pull off leaving shells middle finger 12
Oppose me, mission fail, boy you sick as hell
N***as actors like Denzel till I give em hell
Change in em like a well now that n***a pale
Steering with my left while I shoot at you with my right hand
Kill everybody cold ill turn your block into Iceland
Equipment in my trunk I got poles as long as a mic stand
Ready to back me up that's at every show like my hype man
Squad!
[Chorus: Talley of 300]
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
Pull up on them gassed, all I know is blast
Pop 'em like a tag put em in a bag
Let them trumpets blow I ain't talking jazz
Then get back to the cash all I know is racks
