Getting Paid

[Intro: Trae Tha Truth & Wiz Khalifa] We blowin’ money bitch I go hard, I go hard, gettin paid I go hard, I go hard, gettin paid [Chorus: Trae Tha Truth & Wiz Khalifa] We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it (We spend it all up) We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it And make ‘em pick it all up [Verse 1: Trae Tha Truth] Money strapped to my waist Somewhere in the whip I’m in with no bass Flooded the trap I need a new place? Money got to go I told ‘em theres no space Never love hoes, hoes I don’t chase Only wear loc’s the same as my race All I know is stunt, make a hater feel like shit to the point That he in another place? Real talk I-I-I ain't the one but I lean on haters, looking so clean on gator Try to jack me, I guarantee I’ll put the beam on haters Hood nigga, when I come to this I’m stocked up Shit on my wrist tryna light this block up Nigga said I got a dope man swag, take a look at these jewels Every one of ‘em rocked up And we still on the corner packed in Ace town president somethin back then Hope the slut that I’m with got insurance so She know I’m about to run up on her back end Like I set of bad, she was gettin’ plugged Can take it to the streets, take it to the club I don’t ruberband shit I got trash bags Niggas make it rain, I’mma make it flood I ain't gonna talk shit I’ma talk bread I f a hater don’t like it, tell em drop dead I’m in the hood like a fresh set of projects Where they either rock blue or they rock red I’m the king of the streets Ain't nobody finna take away what I came to get Audi R8 that I came is sick, with interior the colour of a all white? [Chorus: Trae Tha Truth & Wiz Khalifa] We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it (We spend it all up) We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it (And make ‘em pick it all up) We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it (We spend it all up) We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it (And make ‘em pick it all up) [Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa] Big weed in my joint, diss me there’s no point Lil guy but still all my niggas got big heat they on point Rollin up while I drive, engine be in the trunk Decided in 2005 that I can fuck any bitch that I want Ooh, and, and and I ain't trying to stunt this a two seater my bitch can’t help but ride up in the front Ballin’ most niggas won't try to pick ‘em up Throwin’ so much money you even try to pick some up You tryin’ different stuff look at how I block em out Smoke like a Cali nigga even when I’m in the south And when when my car come out the whores come out Don’t even get on twitter no more ’cause I’m what your bitch talkin’ ’bout [Chorus: Trae Tha Truth & Wiz Khalifa] We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it (We spend it all up) We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it (And make ‘em pick it all up) We don’t even count the money no more we just blow it (We spend it all up) We don’t even count the money no more we just throw it (And make ‘em pick it all up)