Bank Account (Remix)




I don’t fuck with cancerous, been fucking with my mama (Yeah, yeah)
And I don’t use my bank account, I count too many commas (Yeah, yeah)
And niggas claim they looking for me, hurry up and find me (Huh)
And you can send a contract but I’ll prolly never sign it (Bitch)
I’m the hottest trappin’ rappin’ nigga out the Carolinas (Bitch)
And weed as bad as alcohol, so I sell it to minors (Huh)
And she not that bad after all, that makeup had me blinded (Uh)
I got so much fucking paper in my bag, I need a binder
I hopped off the airplane jiggin’, I’m on Hennessy, no molly (Yeah)
They gangsta on the internet, they see me, never try me (Huh)
And I’ll drop to my knees and talk to God, I’m feelin’ godly
Keep me ‘way from hatin’ niggas ‘fore I end up catchin’ bodies
Damn, he hatin’ on me, he was just beside me
God damn, fuck that nigga, everything about him
God damn, all I need is two forties, fuck a rifle
Need to take my ass to church and get some help, pick up a bible
I can’t change the way I’m livin’, askin’ God can he forgive me (Yeah, yeah)
All the trials and tribulations that I’m facin’ (yeah, yeah)
Allegations that I’m fakin’
Pull up on me, bitch, I’m waitin’, I’ma squeeze on this big 40
‘Fore they take me, I’ma take ’em, fuck waitin’
Made me switch the tags up on the rental
Pull up shooting out the window
My nigga never really liked you
You gon’ fuck around and make me send him
I’m a mothafuckin’ mastermind, before I break the rules, I’ma bend ’em
Like I’m 15,000 in my denim, take them pictures hopping off the sprinter, bitch


Huh, M’s in my, uh
M’s in my, uh

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