Album Cover Dough

Dough

Key Glock

7

Band

Yuh

YuhYuh-yuh, yuh, yuh (let the band play)

Ayy, I′m runnin' to the money, you know how I′m comin'

Monday 'til Sunday night, be thumbin′, thumbin′, thumbin'

Got this bad bitch with a onion, and she got her own money

She say money keep her comin′, but I keep them commas comin'

Yeah, yuh, another check again

I be killin′ shit, lord forgive me for my sins

Yeah, my wrist cost a 'Rari and my earrings cost a Benz

And my bitch is a Barbie, my name Key and not Ken

When I fired up my blunt, they like "Who fuck broke the wind?"

Double up my cup, I sip lean, not gin

I be high as fuck, it feel like my head spinnin′

But no, I ain't spendin' no time with these bitches

Hell nah, give me head, keep your draws, yeah-yeah

Big dawg, I don′t know ′bout y'all, yeah-yeah

Bling-blaow, jewelry game Niagara Falls, yeah-yeah

Stack it tall, money in the floor and wall, uh, uh, yuh

One to the two to the three and to the four

Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin′ dough

Ready to make a entrance where my backend, bruh?

Because you know I'm ′bout to turn shit up

I told her throw that ass back so I can bust it like a bubble

South Memphis nigga in this bitch, yeah, you know you in trouble

Ain't nothin′ but a P thang, baby

Young iced-out nigga going crazy

Paper Route is the label that pays me

Unplayable so please don't try to play me

Know what I'm sayin? Uh, yeah, bitch, I′m the man

Before you talk raise up your hand, yuh

I been runnin′ it up, you niggas just been runnin' errands, uh

How you screamin′ Crip and Blood and ain't been to the land? What?

Hold up, dog pound, you′s a mutt, you need to scram, yeah

You know how I get down, money talks, you hear me loud

Yeah, I know you hear me loud, I be countin' like

One to the two to the three and to the four

Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin′ dough

Ready to make a entrance where my backend, bruh?

Because you know I'm 'bout to turn shit up

Yeah, turn it up, uh, bitch, I′m the shit, givin′ niggas bubble guts

Yeah, every whip in my crib, it go 200 plus

Except my yellow short bus, that's my Rolls-Royce truck

Yeah, I be going nuts, nigga, I be going dumb (dummy)

Dumber, thumbin′ through the numbers

Run up (run it up, run it up), run up if you wanna

Chopstick on me, bitch, I eat you like a tuna

Young niggas with me, they'll eat you like piranha

I wonder why these niggas be hatin′, yuh

Lord knows I really got balls, shootin' like the navy, yuh

Big loud foreign toy wakin′ up my neighbors, uh

They like "Where you going Glock?"

I'm going to get some paper, yeah

One to the two to the three and to the four

Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin' dough

Ready to make a entrance where my backend, bruh?

Because you know I′m ′bout to turn shit up

One to the two to the three and to the four

One to the two to the three and to the four

One to the two to the three and to the four

Big Glock is all about his motherfuckin' dough

Yeah, yeah, yeah (′bout that motherfuckin' dough)

Yeah, yeah, yeah (′bout that motherfuckin' dough)

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Glizzok