Lyrics Organized Money (feat. Fat Fool) - Lilflarethegoat

With the weight you niggas know that i'm prolific
I shoot my shot and you know I got that precision
I feel like Silento with the coupe how I'm whippin'
When I roll it up you know I always mix it
Smoking on three strains I almost burned down the kitchen
Get the money fast, you know with my bills I'm specific
Organize em' straight, you know I gotta get a grip bitch
Woah, you know I count up all my riches
All these hoes it's hard for me to make a decision
Got 5's and 10's, nigga you ain't even worth lickin'
Chillin with Fat Fool and know we smokin' on some shit, bitch
Yuh, Woah, Hold on
I feel like fuck you nigga pay me
If it ain't bout money, what you sayin'
Playing with us like yo life a game
Yea, I do this shit everyday
Fat Fool put a Glock to yo face
So just get the fuck out the way
Woah, yuh, yuh
You know that I'm counting that
Pussy ass lil nigga yea I'm smokin' on that loud pack
You ain't bout that (Woah, yeah)
You know that I'm off that
You ain't with the drama, lil boy, you just talk that, lil bitch
Worry bout yourself
Being concerned with other niggas problems ain't good for your health
Blacked out coupe (yea), Pull up real stealth
You gotta make the best out of the cards that you was dealt
He went broke, guess he gotta blame himself
He want to start some problems? we gon' see what Christ compels
Mama said I reek, it's that top shelf that she smell
New pack just in, I already know how this shit sell (Lil bitch)

(Yea, yea, ugh)
When fuckin' that bitch, I share
I'm passin' her, gang she weared
Putting these slugs in yo gear
I wouldn't dare shoot in the air
Got my heat with Lil Flare
We trynna sneak, the coast was clear
He ball, he think that he serve
Rob his ass on his turf
He got some nerve
Fuckboy, yea I need a perc
Bitches suckin' for shirts
They suckin' for merch
Double back and I triple the price, jus cuz its some purp'
Goyard with the louis shirt, go berserk
He wanna bitch so bad, nigga it will not work