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That's for armed trafficking, don't make me pull that 4-4Īsk you what you laughing at, represent that mud lifeĭirty money, bitch, you better get your mud right Tell Khaled back it up, my niggas call me Loco Yellow bone, passengers, when they see it, they say "oh boy!" Make millions every year, the South's championĬlean as a whistle as I pull out in my Rolls Royce Got twenty bank accounts, accountants count me in Last time on a Khaled remix, now I'm on the original versionĬan't never count me out, y'all better count me in My verses still be serving, tight like a million virgins My hands go up and down like strippers' booties go It does not store any personal data.Got money on mind, I can never get enoughĪnd they stay there, and they say "yeah," and they stay thereĪnd if you goin' in, put your hands in the air, make 'em stay thereįor the homies that didn't make it and the folks locked downĪnd I'm on this foolish track, so I spit my foolish flows

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