Word To Yams

Word To Yams
I ain't worried 'bout no bitch
Thumbing through the check
Boy, money got me sick (money got me)
My Aston got me sick
Cash, cash
My car go fast, fast
Nigga Ferrari smash
Money bags (ay)
Yeah, she all on my dick (my dick)
I might just smash, (uh)
Pass her to my clique, then I hit her last
I ain't worried bout no bitch, boy I'm off this gas
My phone blowing up, I think they need some gas
I ain't worried 'bout no bitch, boy I'm off this gas
My phone blowing up, I think they need some gas

These cops on my ass
Dirty kitchen, dirty cash
Cash Carti, money bags, yeah
Hoe I keep a sack
Got a cup filled with of act
I'm a real ass ni***
40 clip with the strap
Blow a ni*** off the map
Blowing backwoods in the trap
Niggas talking down while my ni*** spray
I ain't worried 'bout no bitch
Thumbing through the check
Boy, money got me sick (money got me)
My Aston got me sick
Cash, cash
My car go fast, fast
Nigga Ferrari smash
Money bags (ay)
Yeah, she all on my dick (my dick)
I might just smash, (uh)
Pass her to my clique, then I hit her last
I ain't worried bout no bitch, boy I'm off this gas
My phone blowing up, I think they need some gas
Should of seen hoe
It's all good though
Pull down my pants, oh
Don't use your hands, woah
I heard about you girl
You heard about me two
You heard i got them bands
I heard that mouth a (?)

I ain't worried 'bout no bitch
Thumbing through the check
Boy, money got me sick (money got me)
My Aston got me sick
Cash, cash
My car go fast, fast
Nigga Ferrari smash
Money bags (ay)
Yeah, she all on my dick (my dick)
I might just smash, (uh)
Pass her to my clique, then I hit her last
I ain't worried bout no bitch, boy I'm off this gas
My phone blowing up, I think they need some gas