[chorus]

I'm making- I'm making money for sure

I keep that pole told lil bro "don't fold"

I keep that Glock and it go

And that mac got a scope

Keep that clip if you run up

Came with the stick out just like a drummer

You gotta dig up your mother to hug her

And I'm making bands like a fucking pack runner

[verse 1]

I feel like shine the way that I'm on rico charges

I'm on parole, I'm on parole for murder

I just killed a family of five

That gun doesn't have ammo in it like bro that's a lie

I can be off-beat and I am still fye

You cap on the gram like we ain't watching you at all times

I'm sipping wock until I go blind

I do not sip wock I don't even know if that shit happens

[verse 2]

Glock about to clap like it's magic

He talking shit we go spray at that faggot

And he want the rab method he can tap in

I feel like jame hollow tips, never lacking

You hop on the beat and you go passive

I hop on the beat and I go aggressive

Your pockets more poor than the great depression

We bout to turn up in this bitch no need for compression

[bridge]

And that Glock with a dick boutta teach you a lesson

Just kidding

That Glock with a dick about to cave your damn head in

And that's the shit you'll be forgetting

RIP Bro now he's floating with angels in heaven

How you a senior fucking with freshmen?

I'm boutta turn to a... alright

I'm boutta turn to a mo'fuckin' felon

[chorus]

I'm making- I'm making money for sure

I keep that pole told lil bro "don't fold"

I keep that Glock and it go

And that mac got a scope

Keep that clip if you run up

Came with the stick out just like a drummer

You gotta dig up your mother to hug her

And I'm making bands like a fucking pack runner

[chorus]

I'm making money for sure

I keep that pole told lil bro "don't fold"

I keep that Glock and it go

And that mac got a scope

Keep that clip if you run up

Came with the stick out just like a drummer

You gotta dig up your mother to hug her

And I'm making bands like a fucking pack runner