"INVESTMENTS" lyrics
Money Man, Zaytoven & Trauma Tone Lyrics
If I don't hear no bass in the beat, I don't rap
Bad bitch, face in the sheets, she gettin' clapped
Real-street nigga, I don't listen to nobody
Real-street youngin', all they care about is bodies
Glock 43X, pocket rocket in the party
Weighin' up these bags while I'm eatin' on some Smarties
I be so damn high, I be feelin' like a Starlink
Off of that tequila, I be hittin' her while she archin'
I'm the type to pull up in that Tesla with the carbine
I'm the type to pop a shroom and go talk to the Martian
Had to check they temperature, I'm tryin' to see what they on
Nigga shut the fuck up without it talkin' on my phone
Nigga, you late to hell, all that playin' and shit gone
Hope the Lord forgive me 'cause I did a few clothes wrong
Private room at Louis, nigga, give me some champagne
Economy bad, dawg, nigga, I'm sellin' anything
Brand-new Cullinan, just to keep the cutta in
Yeah, nigga fumblin', yeah, my money doublin'
If you just like me, then you gon' understand my vibe
Say you down for me, then take the pistol and go slide
All I care about is money, whips, and them investment
Chopper hit his stomach, all you seein' is his intestine
If I don't hear no bass in the beat, I don't rap
Bad bitch, face in the sheets, she gettin' clapped
Real-street nigga, I don't listen to nobody
Real-street youngins, all they care about is bodies
Glock 43X, pocket rocket in the party
Weighin' up these bags while I'm eatin' on some Smarties
I be so damn high, I be feelin' like a Starlink
Off of that tequila, I be hittin' her when she archin'
Bad bitch, face in the sheets, she gettin' clapped
Real-street nigga, I don't listen to nobody
Real-street youngin', all they care about is bodies
Glock 43X, pocket rocket in the party
Weighin' up these bags while I'm eatin' on some Smarties
I be so damn high, I be feelin' like a Starlink
Off of that tequila, I be hittin' her while she archin'
I'm the type to pull up in that Tesla with the carbine
I'm the type to pop a shroom and go talk to the Martian
Had to check they temperature, I'm tryin' to see what they on
Nigga shut the fuck up without it talkin' on my phone
Nigga, you late to hell, all that playin' and shit gone
Hope the Lord forgive me 'cause I did a few clothes wrong
Private room at Louis, nigga, give me some champagne
Economy bad, dawg, nigga, I'm sellin' anything
Brand-new Cullinan, just to keep the cutta in
Yeah, nigga fumblin', yeah, my money doublin'
If you just like me, then you gon' understand my vibe
Say you down for me, then take the pistol and go slide
All I care about is money, whips, and them investment
Chopper hit his stomach, all you seein' is his intestine
If I don't hear no bass in the beat, I don't rap
Bad bitch, face in the sheets, she gettin' clapped
Real-street nigga, I don't listen to nobody
Real-street youngins, all they care about is bodies
Glock 43X, pocket rocket in the party
Weighin' up these bags while I'm eatin' on some Smarties
I be so damn high, I be feelin' like a Starlink
Off of that tequila, I be hittin' her when she archin'
