[Intro: Baby Money]
(Flexin')
(Cypress)
Yeah, go

[Verse 1: Baby Money]
Fuck the whip, I'm droppin' ashes on the red leather
Threesomes every day, I think I finally found my damn fetish
Left her for another bitch 'cause her head better
She told me she don't need a n***a 'cause her man petty
The plug told me cuh, I'ma win, I think I'm Craig Petties
First to the third, we ain't givin' out no damn credit
Back on the car, so when I aim, it make my stance better
Grip on the Glock, so when I shoot, it keep my hand stеady
Y'all down two, we still spinnin', hope your mans ready
Dirty nails, nеver seen my face, but my hands in it
If I ain't get on feet myself, then my mans did it
Drop a n***a, put him on the 'Gram, killer cam, n***a
This ain't no SRT truck, this a Lamb', n***a
Hand on my pistol, through my life, I done hammed n***as
Can't talk crazy on the 'Gram and be a family n***a
Work make me wanna cherish money, I used to scam n***as

[Chorus: Baby Money]
How many times I told you we was gon' get with you? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was still spinning? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon' come and get you?
You got tricked off the streets and end up dyin' with your n***as (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was gon' get rich, bitch? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon' be the shit, bitch?
How many times I told you we was still lit?
Don't call my phone about no ho if she made it to my list, man (How many times?)
[Verse 2: Skilla Baby]
Ha, I don't know how many times I blew at his ass
I'm quick to slide down a n***a block and shoot at his ass
Got one n***a creepin' at his door and two in the grass
You better not shoot at that n***a legs, you better shoot at his head
Man, I'll slide down, blow the fully out the striker 'til the clip on fire
Like a lighter, this murder for hire
Have bro catch him in the county, stab him up, Michael Myers
Don't care who bitch it is, I'ma get her if I like her
New Patek on, Skilla, I see you stackin' pros
Leave with some hoes, that's just what I do at my shows
Psych, nah, I'm boostin', man, you know I don't fuck fans
Every time I make twenty thousand, I tuck ten, ha

[Chorus: Baby Money]
How many times I told you we was gon' get with you? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was still spinning? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon' come and get you?
You got tricked off the streets and end up dyin' with your n***as (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was gon' get rich, bitch? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon' be the shit, bitch?
How many times I told you we was still lit?
Don't call my phone about no ho if she made it to my list, man (How many times?)