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curren$y, fendi p, black cobain & fiend - who let you in here lyrics

[intro: curren$y]
ah, that’s the feeling
woah, that’s how i wanna feel
huh? (monsta)

[verse 1: curren$y]
summer’s here, they look up to him, what he comin’ with?
somethin’ sick off the showroom floor, swear bro a dealership
cocaine mercedes, i’m on that ’80s drug dealer sh+t
stashbox concealing sh+t
jet life, we the sh+t
i don’t care who them other people is, we in here (we in here)
yeah

[chorus: curren$y]
pulled up with a trunk full of it, it’s that stupid sh+t
don’t usually do them loud music whips, i’m so new in here
only millionaires in the room, who let you in here?
this our money year just like every other year
[verse 1: fendi p]
uh, just like every other— hold on, n+gga, let me fix my sh+t
big rings, got on ten chains, they tangled up and sh+t
paid dues, couple war wounds, this a money year
and this the sh+t i’m up against, some n+ggas who ain’t up on sh+t?
hustlin’ get it out the mud, was a struggle, sh+t
it’s worth more plain, we bust ’em down for the f+ck of it
treat her sleazy, broke her heart, you wifed the ho, cuffin’ it
i f+cked her raw, then when i’m finna bust, just keep suckin’ it
i remember, got my first designer bag with stuff in it
with pounds and my draco, couple dollars and some other sh+t
another porsche, scratchin’ bad b+tches off my bucket list
and slow motion better than no motion, keep your heart in it

[interlude]
ha, that’s the feeling
yikes

[verse 3: black cobain]
i don’t got no issues with no n+ggas i don’t know (i don’t know)
people like to talk, but they ain’t ’bout this sh+t, i know (i know)
spitta here, my n+gga fendi here, my n+gga fiend in here
c is here, i’sis here, baby, this our money year
swap the whip, they doing goofy sh+t, we on some movie sh+t
groupie b+tch, you can’t get a zip, go get your coochie hit
they know me, i got all the game just like casinos
chillin’, watchin’ heat, i feel like al pacino
rollin’ the dice every time
bet on myself every time
tryna have s+x every time
give me the wap every time
i’m tryna flex every time
reppin’ the jets every time
tryna get paid every time
rollin’ a j every time
lil’ b+tch
[verse 4: fiend]
uh, yeah, ayy, uh
this that white tiger on the estates
groomin’ bag of money on the wedding cake
it’s hereditary, i don’t hesitate
three hundred thousand sent to her stomach, real life carry+on
a blonde like marilyn
dc, va, maryland
the motion in these medieval times, that’s what the sword for
these youngins put bowling ball holes right through your car door
pack so strong, it cause strep throat
pumpin’ like selecto
be funky with the necro
you guessed it, it’s the jets, ho
numbers fall down, yeah, they bow down, this royalty
don’t lose your life thinkin’ this just a bar to me
in these sprinters with sh+lls without master splinter
i’m countin’ bread ’cause that’s a j, that’s an l, that’s an r on my jacket

- curreny fendi p black cobain fiend lyrics

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