Released: November 13, 2012
Songwriter: Machine Gun Kelly
We got it, mhm, we got it, mhm, we got it
Kells, yeah
I know you motherfucker better have the cash for us
Rack it up, cause I know you the one I see the mask and gloves
Put the green in the middle like you packing a blunt
And let me get a brown bag like you packing a lunch
My steelo is to repo with the street soft
For making me play the game when I had a cheat code
Black pea coat, fo'-cinco, for amigos
Outside your muthafucking peephole what up
Black flag, with 3 letters that I’d die for
And 3 more for the rivals, R.I.P
Add them all together bye-bye ho
Six feet deep with the fossils
Now I ain’t never killed nothing but a beat
But if it comes down to it, shit I gotta eat
And they say scared money don’t make no money
And it’s true, what the fuck you think it’s gonna be
Lay down!
Mommy should have never doubt, daddy should have took the liquor off the fucking couch
Maybe then I wouldn’t be in the position, saying "assume the position", while I’m searching for a fucking ounce
Now where it at?
They told me that the black safe in the last place where I will be looking
So you better quit the rat race, they tell you that "rap pays"
I begging for half-eighths while these label executives eating crab cakes, hold on
These faggots eating, while my people starve
Well I’m tired of hustling, think it’s time to rob
Same old shit, we ain’t getting paid
Well I’m in this industry, like fuck em, what we say?
[Outro]
Don’t make this 40 go blow, go blow
Put that money in my pocket, right now, right now
Fuck em all, y’all foul, y’all foul
Make these pussy motherfuckers lay it down, lay it down, ah
Don’t make this 40 go blow, go blow
Put that money in my pocket, right now, right now
Fuck em all, y’all foul, y’all foul
Make these pussy motherfuckers lay it down, lay it down, ah
Kells, yeah
I know you motherfucker better have the cash for us
Rack it up, cause I know you the one I see the mask and gloves
Put the green in the middle like you packing a blunt
And let me get a brown bag like you packing a lunch
My steelo is to repo with the street soft
For making me play the game when I had a cheat code
Black pea coat, fo'-cinco, for amigos
Outside your muthafucking peephole what up
Black flag, with 3 letters that I’d die for
And 3 more for the rivals, R.I.P
Add them all together bye-bye ho
Six feet deep with the fossils
Now I ain’t never killed nothing but a beat
But if it comes down to it, shit I gotta eat
And they say scared money don’t make no money
And it’s true, what the fuck you think it’s gonna be
Lay down!
Mommy should have never doubt, daddy should have took the liquor off the fucking couch
Maybe then I wouldn’t be in the position, saying "assume the position", while I’m searching for a fucking ounce
Now where it at?
They told me that the black safe in the last place where I will be looking
So you better quit the rat race, they tell you that "rap pays"
I begging for half-eighths while these label executives eating crab cakes, hold on
These faggots eating, while my people starve
Well I’m tired of hustling, think it’s time to rob
Same old shit, we ain’t getting paid
Well I’m in this industry, like fuck em, what we say?
[Outro]
Don’t make this 40 go blow, go blow
Put that money in my pocket, right now, right now
Fuck em all, y’all foul, y’all foul
Make these pussy motherfuckers lay it down, lay it down, ah
Don’t make this 40 go blow, go blow
Put that money in my pocket, right now, right now
Fuck em all, y’all foul, y’all foul
Make these pussy motherfuckers lay it down, lay it down, ah
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