Rich The Kid Mo Paper (feat. Yg)
[Intro: Rich the Kid]
Yeah, you know what I'm sayin'?
Can't never switch, huh
Ooh, ooh, ayy, ayy, huh
[Chorus: Rich the Kid]
You ain't a boss you can't touch her
I might just paint the Bentley mustard
I got rich, that's on my mother
Say she love you, still can't trust her
Cop the porsche, drop the top, then I Speed Race it
But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby
While your boyfriend a lame I got mo' paper
Ran the money up now I got mo' haters
[Verse 1: Rich the Kid]
Where my stash box? (Stash)
Bring the racks out (Racks)
What your bag bout? (Bag)
I blew that cash out (Cash, what)
Yah, ayy, ran my money up
Now I got mo' haters (I got mo' paper)
Bitches wanna f..ck 'cause I got mo' paper
Now I Speed Race, I want more face
My bitch bake the cake, I might slide the Wraith
Hermès links, check the slink
Chanel when she blink, she want that 'Rari pink (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
[Chorus: Rich the Kid]
You ain't a boss you can't touch her
I might just paint the Bentley mustard
I got rich, that's on my mother
Say she love you, still can't trust her
Cop the porsche, drop the top, then I Speed Race it
But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby
While your boyfriend a lame I got mo' paper
Ran the money up now I got mo' haters
[Verse 2: YG]
I need the bag fast, fast, fast, fast (Fast)
Pulled up, Lambo, niggas mad, mad, mad, mad (Niggas mad)
Saint Laurent, hard bottoms, splash, splash, splash (Splash)
You might slip on the drip, you might need the cash
I painted my 6-4 red, a lot of my homies dead
Some of my homies Blue, a lot of my homies Red
On Bloods, I need that head, I'm tryin' to feel it in my legs
I'm trying to spend a little bread, f..ck it up at Sakks, yeah
All my bitches drive Benz, I'll put you in a Benz
All my hoes conniving, they finesse them M's
Let a rich nigga slide in, oh yeah, yeah she did (oh yeah, yeah she did)
Before you f..ck me, give that pussy a cleanse, yeah
[Chorus: Rich the Kid]
You ain't a boss you can't touch her
I might just paint the Bentley mustard
I got rich, that's on my mother
Say she love you, still can't trust her
Cop the porsche, drop the top, then I Speed Race it
But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby
While your boyfriend a lame, I got mo' paper
Ran the money up now I got mo' haters
