Big Money (c4 Remix) Lyrics - Dj Drama

Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands 

Trap house bunkin', J's runnin' out it 

Rich Homie baby! (DJ Drama!) 

Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands 

Trap house bunkin', Js runnin' out it 

Twelve saw me comin', double back for me 

I supply my neighbor cul-de-sac money 

(Whatchu talm bout Quan?) Cul-de-sac money 

Make so much that twelve double back for me 

All I stack are dead men, run it back for me 

Like a daddy, cul-de-sac money 

Money comin' faster, bitches gettin' thicker 

Watchin' over my back cause niggas get quicker 

Got some bubblegum and hard dick for his sister 

Cause food stamps is all she get from the system 

She like fuck them niggas but they can't do this shit for her 

What your issue? You make nathan off this comma 

Blazin' off this ganja while standin' in this circle 

Slangin' to your momma, while Stefan geeked on Urkel 

And that cul-de-sac still fool me 

That cul-de-sac never sleep 

In that cul-de-sac we movin' 

Ain't nothin' get past me 

And I stop cross, call it short stop 

You talk small, call it short guap 

I eat beef like a pork chop 

What you talkin' bout nigga? Cul-de-sac 

Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands 

Trap house bunkin', Js runnin' out it 

Twelve saw me comin', double back for me 

I supply my neighbor cul-de-sac money 

My bitch she just be from London 

She ain't pronouncin' nothin' 

Yeah we can work on the stove top 

Turn a little to somethin' 

Met a little bitch, she lit me up 

And found out it was the 3rd cousin 

Met a little bitch, she let me up 

And found out it was the 3rd cousin 

Know a couple niggas in some fucked up situations 

Gettin' 40%/60%, change your occupation 

Got a couple riders with me, Harley Davidson 

Coulda had three of 'em but turned to eight of 'em 

Models bitches with a zero 

Tapin' bricks to her stomach just to add a little weight on 'em 

Niggas dyin' left and right like my head 

Know in the trap be a man for the bands 

Call my older brother Top, uh 

Grind ran on you with number nine, uh 

Little brother, he servin' time 

I just hope he don't even lose his mind 

I ain't the richest but I'm in line 

Speakin' of lines, my girl sniffin' lines 

Then line after line, got product like designs 

And you catch a dime, got six in the clip 

Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands 

Trap house bunkin', Js runnin' out it 

Twelve saw me comin', double back for me 

Like a dead end, cul-de-sac money 

Hold on, dollar signs on commas, on motherfuckin' commas 

This cannon on me now, lil nigga you do not want this drama 

I need that cash, that fetti, that lucci 

Need my retribution or else we start shootin' 

Them choppers go off, make your block sound like New Years 

S O X gang, I do not need a new pair, hold up 

I done put stacks in the holes in my walls 

If you touch 'em with cinnamon, it's holes in your face 

PSA for all you pussy ass niggas who hate 

Get off my dick and go get the cake 

I got my hand on the grain and my foot on the gas 

I have no use for a break 

I feel like Michael Corleone with the graves 

I feel like JJ right after the bay 

Better watch what you say bout me 

Cause I keep gunners around, hoe play bout me 

Niggas phony, tryna act like we homies but barely know me 

If you don't want the money then boy you ain't around me 

Ain't nothin' fake about me 

I put killers on they feet, down to spray 'bout me 

We poppin' tags but them niggas pop shit 

We gon' pop in these mags, let the AK scream 

Talkin' big money, boy it come in thousands 

Trap house bunkin', Js runnin' out it 

Twelve saw me comin', double back for me 

I supply my neighbor cul-de-sac money 

(Whatchu talm bout Quan?) Cul-de-sac money 

Make so much that twelve double back for me 

All I stack are dead men, run it back for me 

Like a daddy, cul-de-sac money