Uh oh, fresh out the bed Uh oh, count up the deads You niggas in trouble (niggas in trouble) You niggas in trouble No forreal, no cap, my money long like anacondas If you think about runnin' with that then you in trouble Fresh out, outta the bed, count

I just got the fuck off a plane 6 car garage, I got more than 1 job Be a boss, go hard Wake up, smelling kush when I yawn Shorty wanna fuck with the king, tired of them pawns Ain't on the top? Well, that's nonsense Bank account full of G's, so that's all

She cranks, she cranks, she cranks my tractor She's the first one up the hayloft ladder A girl like that's what a country boy's after She's ten pounds of sugar in a five pound sack I go fast, she hollers faster I go fast, she hollers faster, She's a wild

It got blood on the money and I still count it They got blood on the money and I still count it I can't help the way I'm raised up That Easter Pink, I tried to give it up, I can't give it up We've been at the laundromat all day We've been washin' money

I'm on some shit right now Cash out on a wip Yeah I might fuck a nigga bitch right now Counting grams and stacking Franklin's I'm tryna get rich right now Hey I'm on some shit right now Pull up on that bih like skrt skrt skrt Bitch get in right now Feel

I said I know that this may sound funny But money don't mean nothin' to me I won't make my music for money, no When I woke up this morning I was tired as I could be I think I was counting my money When I should have been counting sheep My agent he just

I'm on some rob a nigga shit, take a nigga bitch Do the dash in the whip, count the cash in the whip I pull up with a stick, I let that shit hit Niggas iffy, uh, Blicky got the stiffy, uh Got the blicky, uh, drum it holds fifty, uh Shout out, but I

It's like counting up to three (One, two, three) Sing a simple melody (Do re mi, ABC) That's how easy love can be! One, two, three Or simple as A buh-buh buh buh-buh

Makes you wanna build A 10 percent down White picket fence house on this dirt Its that elm shade Red roads clay you grew up on You circled up on Drift a cloud back Behind county roads The mud on her jeans that she peeled off

She cranks, she cranks, she cranks my tractor She's the first one up the hayloft ladder A girl like that's what a country boy's after She's ten pounds of sugar in a five pound sack I go fast, she hollers faster I go fast, she hollers faster, She's a wild