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