text: Talkin big money, boy it come in thousands
  Trap house bunkin, Js runnin out it
  Rich Homie baby! 
  Cannon
  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
   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 cant 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
  Aint 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 aint 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 dont even lose his mind
  I aint the richest but Im 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, its 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 my flow belong with the greats
  Feel like that there enough for the bait
  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 dont want the money then boy you aint around me
  Aint 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
   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