Numbers Lyrics (feat. Mack Nickels)

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[Verse 1: Payroll]

I’m in a 550, countin’ my cash
20 in my lap, another 50 in the stash
8 for the bow’s. 25 for the slabs. Hit the mall and buy whatever I can grab
Tru’s stuffed with rubber bands. Stakes courtesy of my trap
I’m trying to count it in the coupe; I think I need 2 laps
Look at the fit you can tell that I move packs
I f*cked a lot of bad hoes and knocked down a few rats
Niggas want to mug cause my belt and my shoes match
The Vette jet black and you know that the shoes match
Pull up in a spaceship, the hoes like “who that”
Those fake chains popular but we don’t do that
We throw 10 carrots in one charm, 20 tattoos on one arm
Fit 30 in one car, spent 10 in one bar
100 round clips if these bitch niggas want war
Call up the plug tell him “spend em I need more”
You know I’m all out. We can buy through a drought
I call shots from my couch. Garbage bags full of stacks. I couldn’t tell you the amount
Not cause I’m counting slow but it’s way too much to count


My trap doing numbers; My phone doing numbers
Sell it for the high; get it for a low number
On the back of the coupe of you niggas see is numbers
You say you need some work. Nigga you the number
All I talk is numbers
All I know is numbers

[Verse 2: Mack Nickles]

My spot doing numbers; my block doing numbers
I ain’t gone lie; I dun shitted 12 summers
I been getting money so they calling me a vet
What I paid for the piece I could of cashed out a Vette
When the bows got slow I ain’t slack on the bils
I hit the stash; spent 60 racks on the pills
Mack ain’t a slacker. I’m a Ziploc packer
Fashionista , hushy jeans, Louis sneakers
I put you on last week, damn you moving slow boy
You ain’t really getting cheese. You don’t f*ck with Doughboys
To be honest; I can see you low boy
Dude you need to chill out. You better ask Lo boy

These ain’t lies; I spit the truth. $650 for the belt, yea receipts tell the truth
I get it for the low but I sell it for a high number
Only way I fall off, they gotta put a kid under


[Verse 3: HBK]

Flying down Six, switch whips to the 6, 16 in the clip that’s wishing a nigga a trip
Swooped up a bitch, and we about to pop a fifth
Everytime I drop a whip she calling to mop a dick
She call me number 2 cause she know that I’m the shit
She glanced at my wrist, she asked if I’m selling bricks
You know what it 2676 I’m on seven deuce where nigga getting rich, hitting licks
Call up the plug; nigga in his late 30’s
I’mma be there 8:30 to pick up 8 birdies
I got it bitch; you heard me
Nextel service need work nigga chirp me
You broke niggas irk me
Posted on the block when I turned 17. Bows of kush for 7 G’s. Knots in my Seven Jeans
Keep a spot with some hoes
Got em taking of the jo’s
Getting loose for my bro’s
Cause we making all pros


[Verse 4: Doughboy Roc]

f*ck them other niggas, I’m just trying to get paid
Rock a crispy as Taper; I don’t f*ck with them fades
We gettin bread like wonder. All I talk is numbers
You get to talking; nickels on yo head (quick numbers)
You make your money double but I make my pro’s triple
My worker came up short I put his ass in a (unknown word)
24 grams, that’s a whole zip. I can get for the 6. 2 for 60 for the bricks
Low key as whip when I’m trafficking the work; And If I’m middle manning then I’m taxing on the work
Got a couple cell phones, yea I’m known to hit the road
Fluffy grey bo’s yea I’m know to get the low
AK-47 hold 100 I let that hit blast. All I talk is number, I think I need to teach math
Nigga stop lying you “beginners stack” money
I got the OT; West Virginia trap money


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