Yeah, it's crazy, I'm a (Killer)
Made all this money from doin' this
D.A. got that dope
Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me
That's what I do with money, got money up the ass
Call it toilet paper, yeah, flushed with cash
Girl, nice butt, is it up for grabs?
Just wanna touch your ass, is that too much to ask? Yeah
I made it grip, I know it's tough to grasp, get the bag
Call it potato chips, I stuff in duffel bags
In some public transportation shit, 'cause I will bust your ass
Get the chain, I'm off the trailer hitch, I got a bunch of swag
Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me
Yeah, I'm a (Killer)
Yeah, I'm a (What?), I'm a (What?), I'm a (Killer)
Yeah, look, yeah
My income is all that and then some
Girl, your man is nincompoop, a symptom
Of a simp 'cause he spent some new to get some
As for me, I'm with Kim Jong-Un, a pimp son
Swag dripping, I'm in a pub
Went up to this chick who was so tipsy, we went to hug
Ended up tripping, I picked her up
She yelled out it's her birthday
She's fifty and in the club
Then it comes on (Yeah), that "In da Club" song (Yah)
She's a buzz saw (What?), we goin' numbskull (Uh)
I live on the edge, she's a jump off (Yeah)
Call her Cinderella (Why?), she loves balls (Oh)
Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me
Yeah, I'm a (Killer)
Attack like the Ripper
All over the track doin' laps like a stripper
Now (Now), now (Now), we'll vow (Vow) look out (Out)
Rap circles around ('Round), surround sound (Sound)
John Rambo's back and my ammo stacked
And I'm cocking rap, some on your head
Other words, I'm stocking caps and I'm talking facts
Like OfficeMax
Never down, I'll be up like an insomniac
Girl, I got racks you gotta rack
How you got all that back and no body fat
I'm in awe with that
When I stop the Pontiac at the laundry mat that I saw you at
You almost had a heart attack when you met Cardiac
You ran inside and told your boyfriend like, "I'll be back"
But for all you know I probably act like I'm Daniel Wozniak
I'm a psycho-chopathic killer
I'm a capular caterpillar
With the botanic of bananas you ain't never heard better vernacular comin after your scapular
For the lack of a better word Dracula
'Cause I'm attackin' a rapper in the phrenic nerve
I'm a savage bout to put the dagger in the back of competitors
Predator and scavenger
I am a carnivore in a ball, you're at the dollar store
What the fuck you got a wallet for? Y'all are poor
I was livin' in squalor but uh-uh, not no more
Now I'm the one they holla for
Fuckin' shit up like a dinosaur in a China store
Bitch, I'm number five—(What?)—minus four (Haha)
Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me
Yeah, I'm a (Killer)
Yeah, I'm a (What?), I'm a (What?), I'm a (Killer)
Yeah
(Oh)
(Woah)
(Oh)
(Woah)
compositores: David L. Doman, Ezemdi Chinaecherem Chikwendu, Marshall Mathers
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