Betttr (feat. Talinwya)

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Jagoh

2:09

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(Kele)
(Woo, woo, woo)
(Hey)

Glock send your ass to heaven, 777
Feeling so angelic
I know these motherfucker's jealous
I'm wearin' Margielas, I'm doing it better
We only wear Chrome if it's Matty
My shots automatic, but that doesn't matter, uh
All of my bitches are badder, uh
All of my pockets are fatter, uh

My money be tall like Yao Ming
Always chillin just counting the green
I'm gonna get it by any means
I be hanging with the money team
Hangin with the team, counting the blue
And the green
F*ck you mean
I don't think you can hang wit the crew
You can leave
You can leave
Smoking the green I be chillin outside, feel the breeze
Score the touch down , Drew Brees
I be doin this shit wit a fucking ease
So much money feel like I won the lottery
Point to the top, cause that's where I'm boutta be
I'm in my zone, do not fucking bother me
Gonna make it to the throne, that is the prophecy
All this money treat it like a commodity
F*ck that humble shit, f*ck all the modesty
Make it or die trying, that's the policy
Fake it or die trying, that's a wannabe
Nigga this real life, no Monopoly
People be wasting time, that shit bother me
Bother me, that shit really fucking bothers me
That's a pet peeve, saying it honestly
Smoking on the green, smoking that broccoli
Shout out to Kodak, no photography
Niggas so funny, they're so full of comedy
I be chillin with the team like a colony
Money on me you might think I'm in secret societies,
Niggas always categorizing me
Doing it all the time, doing it constantly
Yup, I think they're obsessed with me

Glock send your ass to heaven, 777
Feeling so angelic
I know these motherfucker's jealous
I'm wearin' Margielas, I'm doing it better
We only wear Chrome if it's Matty
My shots automatic, but that doesn't matter, uh
All of my bitches are badder, uh
All of my pockets are fatter, uh

Yeah, yeah
My pockets are fatter
I stack out the bread with the letters
Why I'm talking something with David Letterman
Why I'm popping music shit, they let me in
Got a hoe, I f*ck, she got a better friend
All the homies poppin', singing hella field
Brought the drake in the car, and F&M
Tell them come with me, Kele, my fucking twin
She gon' blow me up just like the wind, uh, wind, ayy, wind

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