Lyrics Cash App (feat. Jackboy) - Dee Watkins , Jackboy
What′s
your
cash
app?
What's
your
cash
app?
Bitch,
what′s
your
cash
app?
Don't
be
trippin'
off
a
cash
app
Bitch,
what′s
your
cash
app
All
that
paper,
what′s
your
cash
app?
Lil'
D
Uh
They
like,
"Damn,
what
the
fuck
How
you
do
that?"
They
tellin′
me
to
chill
with
the
tool
I
say,
"Screw
that"
But
put
the
guns
down
I
have
beat
a
nigga
blue,
black
I
been
there
had
a
tik,
no
IG
But
you
knew
that
Yeah
you
motherfuckin'
knew
Hell
yeah,
bitch
you
knew
I
took
the
condom
off
′Cause
I'm
fucking
with
your
boo
I
hate
to
see
you
go
though
I
don′t
really
need
a
crew
I'm
ten
toes
down
like
the
bottom
of
my
shoe
Ok
Racks
in
my
jeans,
I
got
racks
in
my
backpack
Told
that
bitch
to
leave
She
ain't
nothin′
but
a
knack,
knack
I
ain′t
got
no
pressure
with
ya
baby
I
don't
have
that
Oh,
you
want
some
thirty-inch
bundles?
What′s
your
cash
app?
Twelve
get
behind
me
I
ain't
trippin′
this
a
scat
pack
I
just
got
into
it
with
my
doll
but
we
past
that
I
be
in
the
lab
going
hard
I'ma
lab
rat
She
a
whole
face
cute
in
the
ass
vat
Damn,
why
your
bitch
won′t
leave
me
alone?
Uh,
why
she
keep
on
blowing
up
my
phone?
Uh,
I'm
a
crop
'em
out
and
get
′em
goin′
I
won't
make
you
famous
I
won′t
diss
you
in
no
song
I'm
rolling,
pencil
totin′,
window
pokin'
Smokin′,
got
me
talkin',
this
important
Hold
it,
don't
let
him
in
the
building
I
don′t
know
him
Roll
him,
like
a
Backwood,
I′ma
smoke
him
They
like,
"Damn,
what
the
fuck
How
you
do
that?"
They
tellin'
me
to
chill
with
the
tool
I
say,
"Screw
that"
But
put
the
guns
down
I
have
beat
a
nigga
blue,
black
I
been
there
had
a
tik,
no
IG
But
you
knew
that
Yeah
you
motherfuckin′
knew
Hell
yeah,
bitch
you
knew
I
took
the
condom
off
'Cause
I′m
fucking
with
you
boo
I
hate
to
see
you
go
though
I
don't
really
need
a
crew
I′m
ten
toes
down
like
the
bottom
of
my
shoe
I
fuck
for
every
yeah
Type
of
nigga
to
fuck
her
raw
and
fill
her
up
with
plan-B's
Type
of
nigga
to
fuck
her
raw
until
act
like
she
don't
know
me
Type
of
nigga
when
I′m
through
with
her
she
do
the
hommies
I′m
the
typpe
of
nigga
I
don't
know
what
to
do
with
′em
I
keep
it
on
me
Ridin'
in
the
space,
cool,
mama
I′m
lonely
Parkas
on,
overweight
you
niggas
gettin'
boney
Parkas
on,
he
ran
the
plates,
they
need
a
shine
to
clone
me
Uh-uh,
you
niggas
can′t
clone
this
Just
spent
20k
camo-fied
Dior
outfit
We
flyin'
PJ
booth
from
the
project
I
put
cheese
on
your
head
like
Aaron
Rodgers
You
think
I'm
in
the
fashion
I
be
throwin′
bullets,
Lamar
Jackson
Runnin′
in
the
Philly,
you
in
traffic
Might
just
sent
a
bitch,
automatic,
kill
whole
clip,
no
flaggin'
My
nigga
took
the
hit
and
the
wagon
They
like,
"Damn,
what
the
fuck
How
you
do
that?"
They
tellin′
me
to
chill
with
the
tool
I
say,
"Screw
that"
But
put
the
guns
down
I
have
beat
a
nigga
blue,
black
I
been
there
had
a
tik,
no
IG
But
you
knew
that
Yeah
you
motherfuckin'
knew
Hell
yeah,
bitch
you
knew
I
took
the
condom
off
′Cause
I'm
fucking
with
your
boo
I
hate
to
see
you
go
though
I
don′t
really
need
a
crew
I'm
ten
toes
down
like
the
bottom
of
my
shoe
Attention! Feel free to leave feedback.