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fat trel - makin' g's lyrics

sample: makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

verse 1:
i’m all about my bacon-cheese, i told that money, “wait for me.”
foolin out from a-z, so basically don’t play with me
smoke a bowl, cookin c0ke, f-ckin hoes in vacancy
stash house from cali to raleigh belong to crazy g
good police and fake police, you hate police, i pay police
either or i even score, i bring in more you pay for lease
they compare my weed stinks to deceased arm pits
fire arms, muscle up, south beach, i f-cked it up
hotel erotica, vh1 exotica
rental yacht, key west, call that p-ssy nautica
man, i swear all i got is a goddess
stop to acknowledge her
pradas on my property, lotta cheese and broccoli
fake t-ts, fake lips, i just call her counterfeit
put her down, pick her up, it’s back to who i found her with
haitian leaves, wrapping jamaican trees
haters prey on me cause i be makin g’s
n-gga we be…

hook:
makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

verse 2:
all this money got me rollin with them fly b-tches
do or die b-tches, them ain’t yours, you a liar, them is my b-tches
i got a white b-tch, i got a dyk- b-tch
i got a love to shoot dice, love to fight b-tch
i got a love to mix the lean with the sprite b-tch
sorry baby, i can’t make it, got another flight b-tch
but you know what? but you know what?
man all them b-tches…

hook:
makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

verse 3:
i feel like lil’ phat, how i count my money backwards
a savage in the trap, bumpin webbie while we wrap up
rubber bands, duffle bags, prada, gucci, louie rags
whole lotta fire arms, lights off, laser tag
half a million dollars on my lap, what the f-ck is that?
call that pack, that pheonix jones, i open up, it’s running back
no b-tches don’t work for me, my n-ggas where that money at
my momma know she birthed a g, her son be worth 100 racks
money money money, and all i know is money homie
go and get some choppas maybe you can take it from me homie
me and bad-ss, smokin loud all wild
keep some ecstasy and liquor lean, couldn’t slow me down
b-tches used to walk past, but them hoes know me now
got them b-tches pumpin pounds, till the shop close down
flight to louisiana, my n-ggas with country grammar
but don’t ever get it twisted, they poppin tags and hammers

hook:
makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, ma-makin g’s, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap

||there’s definitely a few mistakes, i was just trying to get a rough guess of my interpretation up.||

- fat trel lyrics

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