Lyrics
Pick up to six lines to make a card.
Intro
On cruise control with this shit
See my shit flashin' through the glass
No matter the tint
Woah
Verse 1
Never went against the grain, no silly games played (Nope)
With or without a stage, who really stays paid? (Tell me who)
Got a taste of fame yet and still he stayed sane
Pull out chains like Willie Mays Hayes (Woah)
The best cook, every city gained weight (Hello)
Left foot for bread, no, I really can't wait (No)
You dead looking to race, you really ain't safe (No)
Pull out my checkbook, he think we on the same page, nah (Nope)
My brainwaves all tsunami, eat punani juice (Woah)
Me and [case, sign me, so leave you Miami blue/Mommy blue???] leave ya mommy blue
Play different timezones, I don't got no time for you (Nah)
Might be in Asia minor, you makin' minor moves ('Fuck outta here)
You not a opp, you a mosquito, I never minded you
Plus my guap multiplying, so it's reliable (Brrt)
You touch bank unstable, that isn't climbing proof
You one thunderstorm away from people dying with you, woah
Chorus
We stacking bread to the ceiling (To the ceiling, bitch)
Give a fuck 'bout how you feeling (Oh, you in your feelings, bitch)
We making too much money (Too much money)
Ain't a damn thing, it's too much money (It's too much money)
We stacking bread (You see the bread) (You see this bread on me)
We stacking bread, bitch (Uh-huh)
We stacking bread
Gettin' too much money
Verse 2
All I'm doing is kickin' ass and making paper stack (Uh-huh)
This shit on my wrist flash, nobody paid for that (Nobody bought me this)
Ya bitch in my ride, you want ya baby back (I know)
Mercedes' navy, Tom Brady with the yaygos crack
Lace the track for them dead presidentials now
Residential style, bumping Alpha with the windows down
Show credentials, how you even in the spot with us? (How is that?)
Man, we Area 51, you barely life ya gun
I do BMWs, like Civics, Nissan for my mistresses
My penmanship saved Christmas
Remaining different when these lames is out here lane switchin' (Oh, you switchin' teams again?)
Desperately searching for a corner of the game in which they fit in (Woo)
Shit, I steam rolled the path with each potent rap (Uh-huh)
You catching little bags like you eating [??] and snacks
You the type let off a shot and miss, you holding back (What's up though)
I'ma squeeze until the clip flip, reload, and clap
Chorus
We stacking bread to the ceiling (To the ceiling, bitch)
Give a fuck 'bout how you feeling (Oh, you in your feelings, bitch)
We making too much money (Too much money)
Ain't a damn thing, it's too much money (It's too much money)
We stacking bread (You see this bread) (You see this bread on me)
We stacking bread, bitch (Uh-huh)
We stacking bread
Gettin' too much money
Select lines to share them. You can select up to 6 lines. Arrow keys move between lines, Space selects, Shift with the arrow keys selects a range, Escape clears.