2 x 5 - 222 lyrics

[Intro]
(Damn, Donny made this?)
(Thank you, GC)
Fell hard, but I wiped the—
Yeah
Got right back up
Got right back up

[Verse]
I fell hard, but I wiped the pain off, somebody wake me up
In a relationship with the money, they tryna break me up
Count so much money, on my motherf*ckin' hands, I got paper cuts
I be rollin' big Backwoods, you roll paper blunts
I got twelve-hundred-fifty dollars in a paper cup
Fiend hit a line of drywall off a plastic plate
You don't even put your money up, you got a plastic safe
Thought she only had a plastic body, she got a plastic face
I just knocked a hole in the floor just to stash the pape'
Bro drunk as hell drivin' forеigns, he just crashed a Wraith
I can tell shе got a BBL, she got a plastic shape
I just took my money out to eat, fantastic date
Came through with a flying rug, a n*gga—
Came through with a flying rug and Aladdin cape
I can't let these people hit my blunt, that's why I had to face
I ain't never got the b*tch coochie, but I had the face
In a Maybach driving fast like I had to race
n*gga tryna catch up to me, you in last place
Still ain't got the money for the lawyer for your last case
I just woke up like, "What a fantastic day"
I don't like to talk 'cause they don't listen to what I have to say
Bro sold the Glock and PLR, but he stashed the K
He forgot to eat his ice cream, but he had the cake
It's my baby brother birthday, let you have your way
Ayy, I'm a king too
I had a dream, I know Martin Luther King too
b*tch suck di*k so good, she can sing too
I know a n*gga sell crack, he a fiend too
Pop a Perc', drink a four of Wock', I'm a fiend too
Somebody told me Coochie Man their favorite rapper, I agree too
Every time I bless you, I get blessed, I should sneeze too
Achoo
Auntie hit an eight of—
Auntie hit an eight of— had a heart attack
Knock a n*gga out one punch, it was a hard attack
James shootin' with the mohawk, they think Harden back
I just bought a robot gun with the arms attached
Every morning, wake your ass up like alarms at six
Hop out, walk a n*gga down, just parked my whip
Yeah, I probably beat your b*tch down, you just fought your b*tch
b*tch catch the ball with one hand, Randy Moss that b*tch
I'ma probably kick your b*tch out, I'm finna toss that b*tch
b*tch love to blow my socks off, you tryna off that b*tch
Seventeen different kind of weeds, I got different flavors
Knock your top off, catch a fade, he finna get a taper
I just smoked a big-ass Backwood, he probably smokin' vapors
Got a red dot in the scope, he probably brought a laser
n*gga out here claimin' that's his daughter, probably didn't raise her
You the type of n*gga pay for pus*y, but you never paid her
Hahaha, you done ran off on the pus*y
b*tch, I'm the Coochie Man, couldn't keep my hands up off the coochie
You the type that go broke from— damn
You the type that go broke from spendin' bands up on the coochie
Couple thousand dollars, popped a rubber band up in the coochie
b*tch pus*y hot, she need to put a fan up in the coochie
Ooh, she done caught a tan up in the pus*y
b*tch look so good, so bad she need a whooping
Have you ever hit a super thick b*tch? It was cushioned
Waiting on him at his crib, I fell asleep in his bushes
Have you ever hit a bad b*tch, then hit her big sister?
[Outro]
Haha, what the f*ck? (Damn, Donny made this?)
What the f*ck is—
Coochie Man, what the f*ck is you talkin' 'bout, man?
What the f*ck is you talkin' 'bout, man?
What the f*ck?
Man, Jay, chill, man, chill, chill
Chill out, Coochie Man, you trippin', you trippin'
You know what I'm sayin'?
Keep this sh*t cordial