(Rich100, show 'em how you do it)
It's with an X, nigga
Fxce
Yeah, come on
Alright
Man, this beat got me feeling a certain way
You ain't gon' get everything you put in, man, just charge it to the game
Shoot my lawyer a couple thousand, get them charges out the way
Catch him gettin' his hair cut and make the barber catch the fade
If I ain't makin' money or doin' shit with music, then I'm out the way
If young dog can't make a single play, then get him out the game
She told me that she love me, I f*ck with her, but feelings not the same
F*ck puttin' the strap on layaway, I'm gettin' it out today
Don't feel my pain through this music, you gon' feel it out this K
When I say I'm gettin' my money out the bank, I'm gettin' it out the safe
I can't be the only one rich, I'ma be feelin' out of place
Banana clip on the micro Drac' peelin' off his face
They hear my music one time and know I'm finna be somebody
You wanna know how to rap, give me five thousand, I'll teach you probably
She couldn't keep her legs closed, now she got Dashiki problems
He better duck his taco before I knock the meat up out it
I been lettin' niggas slide, I'm done givin' chances
Been lettin' niggas copy off of me, I'm done givin' answers
Niggas don't want no smoke with us, they done gettin' cancer
Couldn't believe that I f*cked this one bitch, so I got that shit on camera
Slidin' in a stolen Scat Pack, I'm trying not to crash it
On the highway lookin' for an exit, I'm trying not to pass it
F*ck I need your heart for when I got one on my jacket?
A hundred thousand ain't shit, that's just two months of rapping
Catch a pussy nigga lacking, go to the viewing like nothing happened
Have 'em pull up on you with all chops like, "E said, 'What's crackin'?'"
Still hustling like I ain't already made it, I got that from my daddy
Five pounds of Detroit Runtz, I got that shit in baggies
Not some Good Sense, bitch, we talkin' 'bout the 'bow bag
Man, this thot bitch f*ckin' off the name, she don't even want cash
You drop two songs in a week and they both ass
I make ten thousand a month off freestyling, nigga, you wrote that
It's with a X, nigga
Fxce
Yeah, come on
Babyfxce E - Charge It to the Game Lyrics
Babyfxce E - Charge It to the Game Lyrics
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(Rich100, show 'em how you do it)
It's with an X, nigga
Fxce
Yeah, come on
Alright
Man, this beat got me feeling a certain way
You ain't gon' get everything you put in, man, just charge it to the game
Shoot my lawyer a couple thousand, get them charges out the way
Catch him gettin' his hair cut and make the barber catch the fade
If I ain't makin' money or doin' shit with music, then I'm out the way
If young dog can't make a single play, then get him out the game
She told me that she love me, I f*ck with her, but feelings not the same
F*ck puttin' the strap on layaway, I'm gettin' it out today
Don't feel my pain through this music, you gon' feel it out this K
When I say I'm gettin' my money out the bank, I'm gettin' it out the safe
I can't be the only one rich, I'ma be feelin' out of place
Banana clip on the micro Drac' peelin' off his face
They hear my music one time and know I'm finna be somebody
You wanna know how to rap, give me five thousand, I'll teach you probably
She couldn't keep her legs closed, now she got Dashiki problems
He better duck his taco before I knock the meat up out it
I been lettin' niggas slide, I'm done givin' chances
Been lettin' niggas copy off of me, I'm done givin' answers
Niggas don't want no smoke with us, they done gettin' cancer
Couldn't believe that I f*cked this one bitch, so I got that shit on camera
Slidin' in a stolen Scat Pack, I'm trying not to crash it
On the highway lookin' for an exit, I'm trying not to pass it
F*ck I need your heart for when I got one on my jacket?
A hundred thousand ain't shit, that's just two months of rapping
Catch a pussy nigga lacking, go to the viewing like nothing happened
Have 'em pull up on you with all chops like, "E said, 'What's crackin'?'"
Still hustling like I ain't already made it, I got that from my daddy
Five pounds of Detroit Runtz, I got that shit in baggies
Not some Good Sense, bitch, we talkin' 'bout the 'bow bag
Man, this thot bitch f*ckin' off the name, she don't even want cash
You drop two songs in a week and they both ass
I make ten thousand a month off freestyling, nigga, you wrote that
It's with a X, nigga
Fxce
Yeah, come on
It's with an X, nigga
Fxce
Yeah, come on
Alright
Man, this beat got me feeling a certain way
You ain't gon' get everything you put in, man, just charge it to the game
Shoot my lawyer a couple thousand, get them charges out the way
Catch him gettin' his hair cut and make the barber catch the fade
If I ain't makin' money or doin' shit with music, then I'm out the way
If young dog can't make a single play, then get him out the game
She told me that she love me, I f*ck with her, but feelings not the same
F*ck puttin' the strap on layaway, I'm gettin' it out today
Don't feel my pain through this music, you gon' feel it out this K
When I say I'm gettin' my money out the bank, I'm gettin' it out the safe
I can't be the only one rich, I'ma be feelin' out of place
Banana clip on the micro Drac' peelin' off his face
They hear my music one time and know I'm finna be somebody
You wanna know how to rap, give me five thousand, I'll teach you probably
She couldn't keep her legs closed, now she got Dashiki problems
He better duck his taco before I knock the meat up out it
I been lettin' niggas slide, I'm done givin' chances
Been lettin' niggas copy off of me, I'm done givin' answers
Niggas don't want no smoke with us, they done gettin' cancer
Couldn't believe that I f*cked this one bitch, so I got that shit on camera
Slidin' in a stolen Scat Pack, I'm trying not to crash it
On the highway lookin' for an exit, I'm trying not to pass it
F*ck I need your heart for when I got one on my jacket?
A hundred thousand ain't shit, that's just two months of rapping
Catch a pussy nigga lacking, go to the viewing like nothing happened
Have 'em pull up on you with all chops like, "E said, 'What's crackin'?'"
Still hustling like I ain't already made it, I got that from my daddy
Five pounds of Detroit Runtz, I got that shit in baggies
Not some Good Sense, bitch, we talkin' 'bout the 'bow bag
Man, this thot bitch f*ckin' off the name, she don't even want cash
You drop two songs in a week and they both ass
I make ten thousand a month off freestyling, nigga, you wrote that
It's with a X, nigga
Fxce
Yeah, come on
Writer: Aaron Richardson, Efrem Jamar Blackwell
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC