Money Bags Freestyle (dean Blunt Meditation) Lyrics - Asap Rocky

[Intro] 

Is this guy serious? 

Is this guy serious or what? 

[Chorus] 

Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands 

Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands 

Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands 

Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands 

Let it out, let it out, let it out 

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[Verse] 

I foresee the jealousy all in your eyes for sure 

Sure, they don't want to beef with my physique or my .44 

Sure, life is sweet, I'm by the beach, sand all on the feet 

By the seat, the time we meet, we'll leave em' by the shore 

Sure, pop a bean em' right to sleep sheets of my decor 

With privacy, she grind on me and sweep on my rapport, whore 

Drama by the front door, pushing out the back door 

Trapping out the bando, leave em' by the trap door 

Money bags, money bags 

Ten bands, ten bands, ten bands (ten bands) 

Drop the babies in the car seat, must be the Courvoisier 

Tap on your boussie, valeting Cartier 

Car keys to the Marcielago and Courtier 

Wake up thankful everyday, feel like Sydney Portier 

Ayy ayy, soundbite, soundbite, woo 

Cheat code, cheat code, L1, down, right 

Damn right, damn right 

The nigga who your sound like, sound like 

Demons fucking up my focus 

Head vultures, precious death, death rows 

Pockets full of dead folks 

Prada soles full of dead roaches 

And some cud I stepped on 

Waiting for her to get left 

On the same place, dead bodies get left on 

But woke niggas get slept on 

Broke niggas get flexed on 

I really wish she had less on 

I might fuck her with a dress on 

Scratching on me with her breasts on 

We ain't stopping til' the next song 

Next song, next song, next song 

[Outro: Lil Yacthy] 

Ten bands, ten bands 

Money bags, money bags 

Money bags, money bags 

Ten bands, ten bands 

Ten bands, ten bands 

Ricky Owens on me look like Dom Pér 

St. Laurents on me, I don't wear Vans