Westheimer

[Intro: Stove God Cooks] Thang, mm Thang in my, uh [Chorus: Stove God Cooks] Back seat of the Rolls Royce Screamin' "Money ain't a thang" in my Hov voice I had to get rich, they left me no choice It weigh a lil' extra 'cause the dope moist It weigh a lil' extra 'cause the dope moist I had to kill 'em, niggas left me no choice We countin' money in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce Screamin' "Money ain't a thang" [Verse 1: Stove God Cooks] Half zip (Go), to a half brick (Go), 'til they can't fit Pan whippin', she like, "You got powder on your Stan Smiths" (Haha) I'm like, "Bitch, these Alexanders", my lawyеr told me I ain't have to answer It don't еven matter, I went in there lyin' Spinnin', I went Barry Sanders (I went Barry Sanders) Play with them answers, they said the got me on the cameras That's why to this day, I don't fuck with cameras (Ha) Boy, you better thank your God that that shit jammed up (You better be thankin' God, nigga) Cuban under the Canada Goose Drop ceiling in the basement, four hundred bands in the roof (Ask my mama) Ha, they paint pictures in my likeness now I'll have Lil Boosie out the two seater come wipe you down (Brrt, pow, pow, pow, pow) My section full of diamond chains and Ace bottles (It is) Thick legs, small waist models, I had tunnel vision Ye goggles He got some shooters that don't play 'bout him (Hahaha, Stove) [Chorus: Stove God Cooks & Boldy James] Back seat of the Rolls-Royce (Haha, me and Stove like Ace and Meechy) Screamin' "Money ain't a thang" in my Hov voice (Shoutout to Westside Gunn) I had to get rich, they left me no choice (AKA Rolls-Royce Richie) It weigh a lil' extra 'cause the dope moist (Ha, where we at?) It weigh a lil' extra 'cause the dope moist (Mafia, what else?) I had to kill 'em, niggas left me no choice (Brrt) We countin' money in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce Screamin' "Money ain't a thang" (It's on, frrt, beep) [Verse 2: Boldy James] Twenties cloggin' up the machine, hall closet full of Supreme Off-White and Amiri jeans at the Allbright (Up in the A) Hands crampin' up from me countin', thumbin' all night (Where we at?) Money's bustin' out of the seams of my Ksubi denim (Blockworks) Came through and we fried the scene, niggas knew we hit 'em (Brrt) Who we kiddin'? Chapo hit my line like, "Who gave you permission?" (I'm clear) We weigh the work wet to get them extra grams, number crunchin' (Ayy) Showed up to the function and my roof was missing (Drop ceilings) Box stick in the Range, thots trickin' for change (Thotianas) For this new shit, I got my fiend hop, skip in the rain Front tooth missin', look like Bobby from New Edition (Gap tooth) Sold her some dope so oily, when you boil it Could probably Jiffy Lube an engine (Uh), I'm watchin' Scarface in my living room Two bad bitches in my jacuzzi kissin' (Mwah) No instruction manual needed, point me to the kitchen (Skrrt) This is dog food for thought, you niggas do the dishes (Let's get it) [Chorus: Stove God Cooks & Sauce Walka] Back seat of the Rolls-Royce Screamin' "Money ain't a thang" in my Hov voice I had to get rich, they left me no choice It weigh a lil' extra 'cause the dope moist It weigh a lil' extra 'cause the dope moist (I pimp those) I had to kill 'em, niggas left me no choice (I did) We count money in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce (Mhm) Screamin' "Money ain't a thang" (Ooh-wee, ooh-wee) [Verse 3: Sauce Walka] I own a Rolls-Royce in real life Black and pink painted like Serena Williams in pink tights Did the bitch pay me the money? You shouldn't think twice Do Lebron James drink Sprites? Do Meek Mill shoot dice? And did Dave Mirra ride bikes? I'm really him They said that Trix was just for kids, well, silly them These niggas think they Biggie Smalls, but they really Kim I'm in the gym above the rim, lethal shooter When JAY-Z dropped "Ghetto Gospel", I was chillin' at the jeweler Thank you, Hov, I could've signed to JAY-Z and been Roc-a-Fella But I had four bitches clockin' millions from steady rockin' fellas For lots of cheddar, all types of cheese, swiss, mozzarella Shit, I done had so much pepperjack, I should've owned the deli Had to switch cells in the pen, punched down my celly On the west side with a gun, pimped out the whole telly The Red Roof on Westheimer, that's dead proof Set trippin' didn't last you, these Texas diamonds on every tooth On Sauce (Ooh-wee)