Lyrics Counting - Robb Bank$

I think I might be happy

Yeah we got one year till we dead nigga
Two twins count my bread nigga
40 racks that I saved up on 44's outside of your crib nigga
Eight shots bust your head nigga
Both neighbors found you, you gone nigga
Bet you ain't know you could flip a whole half
To a oz. now you looking like "O" nigga

I got money I should be spending
Bonds I should be mending
And relationships are just relations
That shoebox bread that you been saving
I take that
One wrap
2 wrap
Best believe I face that
Tongue down your bitch
I bet she get high when she taste that
No Khalifa cliche
I keep her texts on freeze frame
I screen-shoot it
It's easy
I'll send it if you wanna see it mane
I got hoes all on my dick
Cuz I'm cheatin' like Joey Greco
I'm in a Volvo
Ridin through SoHo
Me and that same bitch
Backseat of a four door
4'4's in a four door
Six golds with four more
That's right lil bitch
I want the whole row
You ain't nothin' but pussy
I know so
I'm watching Ricki Lake
Lookin like Jane Fonda'
All my niggas on different watches
But know we on the same time
She said 'I'll probably be gone by the time you read this"
But I'm scrolling through her old texts
To find pics of cleavage
I remember it got deleted
But in my head I can still see it
Got my head between her legs
But just chill I'm just gettin a retwist...

I'mma do shit how I wanna
She gon' sleep over askin' for pajamas
But tonight I'mma sleep nude
Now what she gonna do when I break that news she a gone-er
Tell me bout your day
Before I go cop this marijuana
Ice cubes in my drank
Then I let her J.Lo my Anaconda
Nigga you A$AP Rocky?
Shit, I'm Aesop Rock-
Up in my old hood
Shootin' bow and arrows out my purple drop
I'll buy your whole estate when I please
Pay off the lease
I quit smoking for a year
But I know a year mean a week
So cold, my mistress always tell a nigga to be gentle
Navy Supreme chinos
Closest I go to denim
Now am I cool?
Cuz I'm rappin bout my clothes and my women?
You niggas just don't get it
This how I'm livin'
Fuck flexin'
And I got yo bitch believing every little thing I'm texting
So why can't you?
I roll 3
And face 2
I'm who you can't go face-to-face to
Riding, Scraper, got an angel rollin' out bible paper

And I'm countin' cards, countin' bitches
Been countin' yo days from the beginning
Now count how many goons got yo punk ass surrounded
While I'm thinkin' how I manage
Up in business and accounting
You got belongings unaccounted for
While I'm counting my blessings
Same shit in my plot
Only thing different is the setting