Dolla Bills - Fly Union

Br-br-br-br-bread in the toaster

Burn it up

What they talking?

We ain’t heard enough

Bread in the toaster

Burn it up

What they talking?

We ain’t heard enough

Porsche coming, we gone drop the roof

Cut the wheels like a fucking coupe

You don’t fuck with me

Shit I don’t fuck with you

You 'bout lies, and I’m telling truth

I’m 'bout dirt and you follow rules

I break them shits and I pay the dues

You 'bout telling me all the shit that you finna do

You an interlude

Gold chains and them gold fronts

That’s for bitches in TV

Dumb shit what you seeing

What the fuck you believe in?

I’m 'bout making the motherfuckers with all the cheese believe in me

My homeboy in that mouse trap

Where they don’t get no sound at

It ain’t no hoes and no loud pack

I feel for him, we gone bounce back

Got whatever you need homie

Wide awake with these dreams homie

Count shit you can’t even figure

Her ass wider than a Cadillac

I’m smashin' that I’m like «Skrrt!»

Damn, body shop they like «Oh man!»

Shit leaking like a car wash

Damp damp, I got wamp wamp

I got food stamps and her legs cramp

We in the Hamptons, I’m Porsche Cayenne’in

Niggas still on that fly shit

Still on that I might die shit

Still on that I don’t give a fuck what it cost still might buy shit

Dolla bills, dolls bills

Five hundred, half a mil

God damn, I’m like shit nigga

Guess this what I get nigga

Hundred grand worth of charcoal with no barcode

I’m like this nigga

Jammed up, but I took the bail like a gift nigga

No bitch nigga

No snitch nigga

This crime pays

Cashing in on them rainy days

When I was growing up, ain’t have enough

That’s why I’m acting up

Like fat booty’s, like buying shit

Like selling shit

Shit I might have something that you trying to get

Shit it might be something that you might’ve missed

And I might have more if you adding this

I might be what they say I am

And I might’ve did what they say I did

Got a Midas touch, I ain’t blowing smoke

I’m blowing up

Y’all niggas tokens, I’m in her slot

Jackpot approaching, my couch cost yo crib nigga

My crib paid by yo rent nigga

Pull the john in a Mac truck

Ain’t shit you can tell me 'bout shit nigga

Unless you live this and don’t fear shit

Did shit and can’t see shit through these tints

I’m Breaking Bad at this campsite

Been cooking up for my whole life

Eating good I got a appetite

Shoulda bought a stack of these apple pies when the price is right

Before the, fuck the hecklers

For the record, furthermore ain’t much more to tell ya