Rocks off in My Pocket lyrics

I got racks up in my pocket, racks up in my pocket
I got thots all in my phone calling me, b*tch, stop it
Fourteen hundred for this belt, this ain't no damn Versace
And I'm smoking all this dope, my hobby's getting money
I count money like I'm poor, you know I already done it
Twenties, fifties, hundreds, b*tch I'm stunting
Fifties, hundreds, twenties, oh my goodness
I need my money machine to count this sh*t for me

I'll be flexin' on n*ggas, just coolin', flexin'
I got my n*ggas, my money, my toolie
I got my car, my house and my jewelry
Yes, flexin' on n*ggas, I ain't worried
Smoking tooka to the head
Come through shoot ya then you're dead
I'm getting money f*ck the feds
I'm Glo Gang, what is this?
That's my sh*t, you little b*tch
Let's get rich you little b*tch
Get off my di*k you little b*tch
And go get you a brick
Smoking TuTu that's my opps
So much damn TuTu on my car
Counting rolls like a boss then
You know that I know
Money machine go beep beep
Hop in my car shooting sh*t
Du-du du-du du-du beep beep
All these f*ck boys wanna be me
His b*tch let me f*ck her cause I got racks
So I hit it like bang bang, skeet, skeet
Tell that on my phone yeah
Money tatted on my mind yeah
Thirty tatted on my gun yeah
It's time to have fun yeah
His b*tch say she wanna f*ck me
She really wanna f*ck my money
Thought that I ain't know
She thought that I was a dummy
Told her save that sh*t
Baby you on that lame ass sh*t
I don't play that sh*t