"I Got 3am jan19" lyrics

Officially the richest to ever post up in the circle
I like my bitches yellow, money blue, I'm smokin' purple
I would've went no shirt if I knew your BM was a squirter
I only know her as a ho, barely as a person
My lil' nigga's still a scrape, so he can barely write in cursive
Who am I to say he can't? He get paid, so to him, he workin'
But fuck it, life gon' learn you till it burn you, and you can't even change it
Glad I keep my belt, you might not expect when a nigga might need a spankin'
Bakin' soda add some flavor, rock lock up, take concentration
Face to face for conversation, on the phone be complicated
Old school, still fuck with them old rules
Like when a nigga snitch, then he get killed like he supposed to
You know what I go through, takin' care of my nigga's fam, don't even stress it
I'ma handle it, cook it for you, help you bag it to the skillet
Eggs scrambled, where the bread? Egg sandwich

I got more money than all them put together on my mama
And the streets gon' always love me, I passed out more phones than Obama
And everybody a snake till they face to face with an anaconda
I got, I got, I got, I got
I got the most backdoors open for any nigga whoever
'Fore you let it be known it's up with me, better have your shit together
The streets know me, they never heard of you, never

You snaked more nigga than you popped, I done killed more nigga than you shot
Wasn't gonna make this type of song, shit's so gangsta, how could I not?
Wasn't gonna fuck that bitch no more, but she so cold, shit, how could I stop?
Shoulda told her 'fore you left out the spot to cover her eyes, so she don't see my watch
Imagine me wifin' a thot, imagine me missin' a drop
Imagine 'em givin' my nigga them long ass sentences, want 'em to rot
Yeah, remind me to mind my business, don't be friendly 'cause niggas be hot
Yeah, remind me to fuck they bitch, don't care if she a opp, I'm flyin' her out
Yeah, remember I gave her a lot to go in the post office and pick up a box
I'm watchin' her smile now, walkin' out gon' let her man get on with an ounce
I ain't even trippin', I'll help you out, huh, take these to the house
Whatever you make, keep that amount, you know I got too much to count

I got, I got, I got so much money
I got more money than all them put together on my mama
And the streets gon' always love me, I passed out more phones than Obama
And everybody a snake till they face to face with an anaconda
I got, I got, I got, I got
I got the most backdoors open for any nigga whoever
'Fore you let it be known it's up with me, better have your shit together
The streets know me, they never heard of you, never