Blow You Away lyrics

[Intro]
Mario
Oh Lord, Jetson made another one

[Chorus: Money Man]
I hop in the coupe and I'm whippin' it fast
I'm on the way to go get me a bag
b*tch, I'm the passenger, you know she bad
She got my exes all angry and mad
They belong in a barrel, these n*ggas be crabs
Run off with a pack and get shot in the ass
We in the trap, we don't listen to jazz
That n*gga too soft, I ain't tryna collab
Three different flavors, come purchase some bud
Download my tape, I might show you some love
Too many plays, I can't go to the club
Too many plays, I can't drop me an album
I don't sell zips, you gotta buy volume
When I light up my blunt, this sh*t turn down the volume
Come shop with me, you can get a good value
Freshest alive, you should pay me to style you

[Verse 1: Money Man]
She not a horse but she look like a stallion
Questioning sh*t, you just kept the medallion
Sewed up the hood, n*ggas heavily banging
Come with that rocket ship, n*ggas is dying
Bit on my face so I look like a lion
She backin' up on my di*k and she grinding
Give me two million or I'm never signing
All the designer, I should be a stylist
That ho you cuff, she got too much mileage
I'm on the plane with the pack in the private
I'm burning on loud, n*gga, far from quiet
Everybody got sticks, n*gga, why would you try it?
My money be Nephilim, that sh*t be giant
I don't wanna conversate, I want vagina
I build me a b*tch like we a science
I grow my own food, I'm self-reliant
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Push up on me, I'ma blow you away
Treat a ho like a pistol and throw her away
The pack came late, it had to delay
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
She sexy as hell, she bad as f*ck
She know my ex-b*tch mad as f*ck
I bust down a bale and bag it up
Beep, beep, beep, beep
Just like a truck, she back it up
These n*ggas used to laugh at us
Now they wanna make songs and rap with us
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I grab me a pound and bag it up
Heard your lil' song, it's wack as f*ck
I get them racks and stack 'em up
[Verse 2: Yung Mal]
I got racks, I keep racks, I got racks, racks, racks
I keep young n*ggas with me and they keep straps, that's no cap
I'm with Money Man, I got rubber bands and they bustin' out my pants
Flight to Miami, when I land I got gunners, they got sticks in hand
Hot just like a sauna, man
Never leave my brother, sh*t get ugly, I can't take the stand
I ain't talkin' on the phone, you want a P, you know the fee
Wrist cold like the sea, Eskimo, 1017
My son got Gucci carseat, my b*tch in love with Birkin B
I'm the boss, they work for me
They say talk is cheap, but if I'm talkin', ain't talkin' cheap
My whole hood bettin' on me
I got racks on me, I keep racks on me
n*gga wanna know the rest, then b*tch, get in your bag

[Chorus: Money Man]
I hop in the coupe and I'm whippin' it fast
I'm on the way to go get me a bag
b*tch, I'm the passenger, you know she bad
She got my exes all angry and mad
They belong in a barrel, these n*ggas be crabs
Run off with a pack and get shot in the ass
We in the trap, we don't listen to jazz
That n*gga too soft, I ain't tryna collab
Three different flavors, come purchase some bud
Download my tape, I might show you some love
Too many plays, I can't go to the club
Too many plays, I can't drop me an album
I don't sell zips, you gotta buy volume
When I light up my blunt, this sh*t turn down volume
Come shop with me, you can get a good value
Freshest alive, you should pay me to style you