Dollar Signs ft. Torcha Lyrics

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Live and direct

Yo torch what's good man

We live

We live

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Tell em

Bout my dollar signs

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, boy, I'm bout my dollar signs

Count that money up, I got a grind

Making hits, now y'all out of time

All my niggas, yeah, they gotta shine

Snatch the crown by any means

Michael Jackson, Rich, I need them Billie jeans

Keep the eagle with me like a Philly team

Join the rap game, that's a Millie dream

I'm applying pressure to these pussy niggas

I'm a pro at it, y'all some rookie niggas

Got her legs up, she get her cookies, nigga

Mama always said don't be no pussy nigga

So I'm ripping beats like I never did

Make a hundred thousand like I never did

I'm bout to bank like I never did

Hit that bitch again like I never hit

I been bad since my mama made me

Now my kids bad, history played me

Cush got me lazy till it's time to rap

You a broke nigga, boy, it's time to trap

Body leaning over like I'm on lean

Boy, I be so high, everything a dream

Boy, this shit, I'm smoking everybody fiend

All through the day, this all i scream

Yeah, yeah, boy, I'm bout my dollar signs

Count that money up, I got a grind

Making hit's, now y'all out of time

All my niggas, yeah, they gotta shine

Snatch the crown by any means

Michael Jackson, Rich, I need them Billie jeans

Keep the eagle with me like a Philly team

Join the rap game, that's a Millie dream

Damn, bro, you just kill niggas like that

Yeah

You really cold hearted like that

Bro, I swear to God, you mean on that mic

Real talk

Can I have some

Real shit

Ayy, this big pimping shit, I pop my collar time

Killing rap niggas, call it Columbine

Want the buzzer beater fuck the overtime

Fully loaded clip for niggas out in line

We do anything for them dollar signs

Hustle brick, hit licks, break it down and dime's

You know the strip get rich, we just gotta grind

We in this bitch getting lit and we living fine

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God

Ayy, we go hard, we go hard, we go hard

Ayy, we from Rob Co, and we trained to go

We got OGs, do, what we say, so

Make one false move, get a halo

Cause them shooters with me got Dracos

And that paint wet come from Mako

See me tatted up like I'm Fabo

My bitch bad, call her J-Lo

With a big ol' ass and I fake, no

Can't fuck around with no stank hoes

Don't fuck around with no snake bros

Yung boss gang, we on the way, though

We on the way, bro

We live

Yeah, yeah, boy, about my dollar signs

Count that money up, I gotta grind

Making hits, now y'all out of time

All my niggas, yeah, they got to shine

Snatch the crown by any means

Michael Jackson rich, I need them Billie jeans

Keep the Eagle with me like a Philly team

Join a rap game, that's a Millie dream

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah