"Rock Off In My Pocket" lyrics

I got racks up in my pocket, racks up in my pocket
I got thots all in my phone calling me, bitch, stop it
Fourteen hundres for this belt, this ain't no damn Versace
And I'm smoking on this dope, my hobby getting money
I count money like a pro, you know that I done done it
Twenties, fifties, hundreds, bitch, I'm stunting
Fifties, hundreds, twenties, oh my goodness
I need my money machine to count this lil' shit for me

I be flexin' on niggas, just coolin' (Flexin', flexin')
I got my niggas, my money, my toolie (Need my money and my toolie)
I got my cars, my house and my jewelry (Yes, man)
Flexin' on niggas, I ain't worried (I ain't worried 'bout a thing)
Smoking Tooka to the head (Tooka to the head)
Come through, shoot ya, then ya dead (Come through, shoot ya, then ya dead)
I'm getting money, fuck the feds (I'm getting money, fuck the feds)
And I'm Glo Gang, what is this? (And I'm Glo Gang, what is this?)
That's my shit, you lil' bitch (That's my shit, you lil' bitch)
Let's get rich, you lil' bitch (Let's get rich, you lil' bitch)
Get off my dick, you lil' bitch (Get off my dick, you lil' bitch)
And go get you a brick (And go get you a brick)
Smoking TuTu, this my oxygen (Smoking TuTu)
Too much damn TuTu, where my car keys, man? (Too much damn TuTu)
Counting rolls like a boxer, man (Counting rolls)
Ya know that I'm the man (Ya know it)

I got racks up in my pocket, racks up in my pocket
I got thots all in my phone calling me, bitch, stop it
Fourteen hundres for this belt, this ain't no damn Versace
And I'm smoking on this dope, my hobby getting money
I count money like a pro, you know that I done done it
Twenties, fifties, hundreds, bitch, I'm stunting
Fifties, hundreds, twenties, oh my goodness
I need my money machine to count this lil' shit for me

Money machine go, "Beep, beep"
Hop in my car, skrrt skrrt skrrt, dudu dudu dudu, beep, beep
All these fuck boys wanna be me
His bitch let me fuck 'cause I got racks, so I hit it like bang bang, skeet, skeet
Tatted up like fuck, yeah
Money tatted on my mind, yeah
.30 tatted on my gun, yeah
It's time to have fun, yeah
His bitch say she wanna fuck me
She really wanna fuck with money
Thought that I ain't know
She thought that I was a dummy
Told her save that shit
Baby, you on that lame ass shit, I don't play that shit

I got racks up in my pocket, racks up in my pocket
I got thots all in my phone calling me, bitch, stop it
Fourteen hundres for this belt, this ain't no damn Versace
And I'm smoking on this dope, my hobby getting money
I count money like a pro, you know that I done done it
Twenties, fifties, hundreds, bitch, I'm stunting
Fifties, hundreds, twenties, oh my goodness
I need my money machine to count this lil' shit for me