paroles de chanson Big Money - C4 Remix - Skeme , DJ Drama , Lil Uzi Vert , Rich Homie Quan

Talkin′ big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', Jay runnin′ out it
Rich Homie baby!

Big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', Js runnin' out it
Twelve saw me comin′, double back for me
I supply my neighbor, cul-de-sac money
(Whatchu talm bout Quan?)
Cul-de-sac money
Make so much that twelve double back for me
All I stack are dead men run it back for me
Like a daddy, cul-de-sac money

Money comin′ faster
Bitches gettin' thicker
Watchin′ over my back cause those niggas get quicker
Got some bubblegum and hard dick for his sister
Cause food stamps is all she get from the system
She like (?) but they can't do this shit for her
What your issue? You make Nathan off this comma
Blazin′ off this ganja while standin' in this circle
Slangin′ to your momma, watch (?)
And that cul-de-sac still fool me
That cul-de-sac never sleep
In that cul-de-sac we movin'
Ain't nothin′ get past me
And I stop cross, call it short stop
You talk small, call it short guap
I eat beef like a pork chop
What you talkin′ bout nigga (?)

Big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', Js runnin′ out it
Twelve saw me comin', double back for me
I supply my neighbor, cul-de-sac money
(Whatchu talm bout Quan?)
Cul-de-sac money
Make so much that twelve double back for me
All I stack are dead men run it back for me
Like a daddy, cul-de-sac money

My bitch she just be from London
She ain′t pronouncin' nothin′
Yeah we can work on the stove top
Turn a little to somethin'
Met a little bitch, she let me up
Found out it was the 3rd cousin
Met a little bitch, she let me up
Found out it was the 3rd cousin
Now a couple niggas is a fuckin' situation
Gettin′ 40′s, 60's change your occupation
Got a couple riders with me, Harley Davidson
Coulda had three of ′em but turned to eight of 'em
Models just (?) zero
Tapin′ bricks to her stomach just to add a little weight
(?) like my head
Know in the trap be a man for the bands
Call my older brother top uh
Grind ran on you with number nine, uh
Little brother, he servin' time
I just hope he don′t lose his mind
I ain't the richest but I'm in line
Speakin′ of lines
My girl sniffin′ lines
Line after line
Got product like designs
And you catch a dime, got six in the clip

Big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', Js runnin′ out it
Twelve saw me comin', double back for me
I supply my neighbor, cul-de-sac money
(Whatchu talm bout Quan?)
Cul-de-sac money
Make so much that twelve double back for me
All I stack are dead men run it back for me
Like a daddy, cul-de-sac money

Hold on, designer on (?)
A motherfuckin′ couch
This cannon on my leg and you do not want this drama
I need that cash, that fetti, that lucci
Need my retribution or else we start shootin'
Them choppers go off, make your block sound like New Years
SOS gang, I do not need new pair, hold up
I done put stacks in the holes in my walls
If you touch ′em with (?) it's holes in your face
PSA for all you fuckin' dancers
Get off my dick and go get the cake
I got my hand on the grain and my foot on the gas
I have no use for a break
I feel like Michael Corleone with the graves
I feel like (?)
Better watch what you say bout me
Cause I keep gunners around, don′t play bout me
Checkin′ .40's, tryna act like we homies
But you barely know me
If you don′t want the money then boy you ain't around me
Ain′t nothin' fake about me
I forget (?) about me
We poppin′ tags for the tickets (?)
We gon' pop in these mags, let the AK scream

Big money, boy it come in thousands
Trap house bunkin', Js runnin′ out it
Twelve saw me comin′, double back for me
I supply my neighbor, cul-de-sac money
(Whatchu talm bout Quan?)
Cul-de-sac money
Make so much that twelve double back for me
All I stack are dead men run it back for me
Like a daddy, cul-de-sac money