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letra de after cheetahs freestyle - robb bank$

[intro: tony shhnow]
(who made that beat, mojo?)
(that b-tch go crazy, hahahaha)
yeah, yeah, yeah
if it ain’t broke, you don’t gotta fix it, you know what i mean?
if it make dollars, it make sense to me
yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh

[chorus: tony shhnow, robb bank$ & trapland pat]
f-ck what you talkin’ ’bout, n-gga, let’s get to that money
i stand on my ten, paper chasin’ them hundreds
i told her, “you like it, lil’ baby, i love it”
i ain’t with all that fightin’, ain’t with all that fussin’
i’m tryna pour red up, i’m tryna pour ‘tussin
why the f-ck is we talkin’ when we should be f-ckin’?
sneakin’, i’m geekin’, she tweakin’, i’m treatin’
you ain’t patchin’ up on them ‘bows, then you leachin’
you coppin’ or what? ain’t got time for no meetin’
pour a four on a four, now my heart hear me beatin’
trap door swing back to back, got that ho beatin’
hеr last n-gga broke, but i don’t know the meanin’
my young boy go hard, but i makе it look easy
i put her in christian, she f-ck like a demon
i took exotic out, word to 4feezy
i’m sellin’ o’s same price as new yeezys
[verse 1: robb bank$]
n-gga, this thug motivation like jeezy
i took your bm and i did her greezy
rich like roddy, ballin’ every season
you live with your sister, n-gga, we ain’t beefin’
i gave her a freebie, n-gga, you know that
toxic with my b-tch, she already know that
screamin’ at her, “be careful how you pour that”
thousand-dollar cup, you spill it, i’ll— pssh, b-tch

[interlude: robb bank$]
b-tch, i’ll—
you know, yeah
b-tch, you know
yeah

[verse 2: trapland pat]
’bout to blow, i’m with bob, we don’t smoke out no marleys
deadstock truck, this a brand-new harley
double-d, i can leave it plain
si diamonds in your mouth, boy, these not the same
one-way flight straight to texas, i met johnny dang
act raw how we get down, but we in the same lane
tony got the snow, you know we ’bout to make it rain
boy, you can’t cruise, heavy motion and you’re on land
[verse 3: tony shhnow]
i’m in the trap with pat
quit textin’ my phone, you ain’t gettin’ this ho back
patrick mahomes, i’m in here with that sack
i’m smokin’ the real, not the deal
i need a heisman award how a n-gga be touchin’ down in that field
your b-tch lookin’ good, i might cop the lil’ feel
you gas her up, i just fill her up, so she gon’ pop that lil’ pill
your gun in the car, but my sh-t right here
i say f-ck what she heard, put my d-ck in her ear
i’m rollin’ exotic, i’m facin’ my fears
i got some bald heads inside of my glock like the old britney spears
you play and get dropped like a tear
i married the money, my jeans not amiri
i need them hundreds, i’m hard when it’s near

- robb bank

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