Check, check, check, check Look at these at all these young niggas flexing from the bottom We just want the money the respect and all the power The money and the power fucking up a check These bitches fucking for a check Counting all this money with my

Bath, bath salt, bitin' speakers in the face Wait, wait a minute Bath salt, bitin' speakers in the face I get it how I live it I live it how I get it Count the mothafuckin' digits I pull up with a lemon Not 'cause she ain't livin' It's just your eyes get

Pretty girls drinkin' tall boys Watchin' pretty girls drinkin' tall boys Swingin' their hips to a country song Silver cans up in the air Ain't nothin' like gettin' right Chasing a buzz with a cold Bud Light 'Bout pretty girls drinkin' There ain't much to

I'm on 'em beans for the real, I'm on the lean for real I'm on the beans for the real, I'm on the lean for real Nickelodeon way I got that slime Run it up, yeah, yeah Count it up, yeah, yeah, yeah Indigo, yeah, Indigo, yeah, yeah That bag loaded, yeah,

In rack city counting up a four I was trapping, getting it by my 'lone Nobody loves me but me No more, no more, no more, no more 14, 14, 14, babe yeah Rocket got them pints for the low Chris got the rocket, he gon' blow Murder what she wrote

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

'Cause I ain't never seen a country boy with tires on his truck this high I said climb on up but honey watch the cup That I'm spitting my dip inside and hold on tight 'Cause it's gonna be wilder than any eight second ride Well I said hey girl what's your

(This is country music) So turn it on, turn it up, and sing along This is real, this is your life in a song This is country music Well you're not supposed to say the word "cancer", in a song. And tellin' folks Jesus is the answer, can rub 'em wrong. It

There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes, Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose. Little pitchers have big ears, Don't stop to count the years, Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios. Sam Stone came home, To the wife and family

(Raised on country music) I was raised on Merle, raised on Willie Got my Honky Tonk attitude from Joe Diffie Daddy did too, it's family tradition If someone cranks it up, you can't help but listen My upbringing sounds like George Strait singing And I