PimpinAintEasy Lyrics

Turn me up

Mines 40 yours 50

Tell em hit me up if he really with it

Know I got my dirty niggas riding with me

Homie trynna spark, told em, hold up

Too short, ain't bout money I don't really feel it

Mines 40 yours 50

Tell em hit me up if he really with it

Know I got my dirty niggas riding with me

Homie trynna spark, told em wait a minute

Too short, ain't bout money I don't really feel it

Blunt smell, rolling low, with the window tinted

Fuck 12, I ain't caught up wit em in a minute

If ain't ain't about the money I don't

Uh

Uh

Pull to the set with an invitation

Ion do much, I be money making

Tell em throw they sets, we ain't gotta say shit

A nigga pull through in a clutch, and my dawgs adjacent

To much pussy for me so we never chase it

Money is the only thing I'm giving patience

Shout my niggas, all my niggas we must be related

How you in the game, and you ain't playing

Who else turn a two to a four

Getting bred on the low

Getting head on the low too

Nigga I been getting paid by myself

Getting bread by myself

Tell me, nigga do I know you

No nigga, do it wrong let me coach you

Coach k, I'm that nigga you should come too

Broke days, man you know a nigga had to go through

No pain, watch a nigga hit a slow groovy

Moe bop, mane that nigga knaan came through

Moe guap, nigga never let it change you

Four, five, six, seven bad bitches came through

And I ain't pick not one, I let my dawgs choose

All player in this bitch, don't make the wrong move

Drop top, in a hot box let the smoke through

Young nigga, making figures bigger than the old dudes

Uh

Yeah

Mines 40 yours 50

Tell em hit me up if he really with it

Know I got my dirty niggas riding with me

Homie trynna spark, told em wait a minute

Too short, ain't bout money I don't really feel it

Blunt smell, rolling low, with the window tinted

Fuck 12, I ain't caught up wit em in a minute

If ain't ain't about the money I don't really hear it

Funny life turn cold under them street lights

Under a 100 a zone he got that sack right

Got him sipping alone, he got that act right

Hottest under the sun, he got his strap right

Was he made for this street life (nigga hell yeah)

All they give em

Is real nigga

drug dealer

Born sinner

Trend setter

Still extra

Said he was fresh to death when them stray bullets hit em (look out)

But the hustle gone continue

His mama called em up and said she love him and she miss you

But he caught up in the issue

As his homies spin the block looking for the ones that hit you