By Any Means Lyrics

Dough, paper
Skrilla, chaser
Got food, IKEA
Sammy oh oh, trader, it's AM for that white
9 for that 'B
I got money on my mind
I still count it in my sleep
I ain't chilling on no beach
I been sitting in the trap
Couple racks all on my lap
Thinking (?) all these fiends
All that drinking Courvoisier, and all that smoking shish'
(?) I'll blow you off your beans
Shouting, 'Potter, you're so mean'
[?] Macaroni, I don't smoke dutch
[?] all in my blood
Now these spirits all in my cup
Now these bitches all on my dick
[?] telling me, saying she wan' f*ck
So I told her, 'Come to my crib'
And I dig it all in her cunt
[?] 'bout it
Dirty money I'm counting
Off of peddling ounces
We getting money, like count is
Love them chocolate brownings
Told her 'pop it snd bounce it'
Take this boat and down it

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