I'm in love with getting money, counting moneyI got a fetishEverything busts downLooking better than her ageMr. Quarterback run the plate, throw a touchdown and catch itDid you catch it?Coming through these blues like I'm on the phoneTexting in love with getting money, counting moneyI got a fetishJust know I hit the road, I'm finessingIf not, I'm stacking on the block like TetrisIt's a quarter past, no time for no flicksAnd the whole city know me, just not only in my sectionBitch looking lost, so I gave her directionsI check traps, she give me head and bag like some lettersI name her Wendy cause she white, bitch red-headedNo heels, hit the blade, bring me cheddar cheese and wedgesMust be slow off that ball if you don't get itOr you might just be a nerd, you'll anyway, so forget itI always knew when I was young, I was destinedTo be a real nigga from beginning to the endingSo think a nigga pussy, boy, you kiddingIf I let this thing blow, that's for sureYou gon' get itI be thumbing through these blues like I'm on the phone textingI'm in love with getting money, counting moneyI got a fetishEverything busts downLooking better than her edgyI'm here for the quarterback, run the plateThrow a touchdown and catch itDid you catch it?I be thumbing through these blue notes like a jazz legendLouisiana seafood and turn the face to crab dishesI know you want your supper productGotta get itThe morning stretchesDoc say you fine and wheelin' but the shots wouldn't let emMy watch boom and my chain disrespectedThat all chrome nine, all you see is my reflectionI'm folding noodles in the pipe like Mavs trying to stretch emI'm surveillance cameras, police scanners searching, trying to catch oneBig drum, fried breasts like pot piesBeen sitting on this rack for a week like hot friesThese lil' niggas livin' fiction, all sci-fiNASA rockets launchin' off, leavin' niggas sky highAll the ground fall from under you, it's a hell slideThem shells comin' out the barrel like snail signsLeave a hole in the wall like a lunch pelt sizeLeavin' down as a shooter, my game almost 12I be thumbing through these blues like I'm on the phone textin'I'm in love with gettin' money, countin' money, I got a fetishEverything bustin', lookin' better than her edgesI'm here for the quarterback, run the plateThrow a touchdown and catch itDid you catch it?Did you catch it?Did you catch it?
