Jerms Pray And Stack Lyrics


Pray And Stack by Jerms

[Verse 1]
Fives, Tens, Twenties, Fifties, Hundreds.
Thumbing through this paper. Don't Get Mad, get you some Money.
(Get you some Money!)
First you make sure that your kids straight.
(This what I prayed for!)
Then you cop the Rollie with the big face.
(And it's paid for!)
Loyalty is all that we ask and if you won't die bout it then we gon dead
Em.
Thumbing through all of this cash while me bitch struggle to get in her
Denim.
I'm on some new shit and to these old hoes, I'm some new dick.
I know you sick. Hit a new lick now my crew lit.
Made a cool dub and then blew six.
They all talk bout how they gon do shit until shit done.
Send shots I'm gon send shooters spitting like Big Pun.
Play dumb like that shit smart but my niggas here we retarded.
They left me and thought I was finished.
But I'm just getting started.
Counting these...

[Chorus]
Fives, Tens, Twenties, Fifties, Hundreds.
Thumbing through this paper. Don't Get Mad, get you some Money.
(Get you some Money!)
First you make sure that your kids straight.
(This what I prayed for!)
Then you cop the Rollie with the big face.
(And it's paid for!)
I'm talking...
Fives, Tens, Twenties, Fifties, Hundreds.
Thumbing through this paper. Don't Get Mad, get you some Money.
(Get you some Money!)
First you make sure that your kids straight.
(This what I prayed for!)
Then you cop the Rollie with the big face.
(And it's paid for!)
I'm talking...

[Verse 2]
Fives, Tens, Twenties, Fifties, Hundreds.
Thumbing through this paper. Don't Get Mad, get you some Money.
(Get you some Money!)
First you make sure that your kids straight.
(This what I prayed for!)
Flash the wrist, then I woke up in your bitch face.
(That's what it's made for!)
Little bitch.
She be popping pills like a Huxtable.
Two clips, hold bout thirty too.
If you wanna shoot.
Mop and it came with the ruler.
Couple shots got me dancing like Smoova.
Keep the box, all I want is the medulla.
Main joint but my side chick cooler.
They know the difference.
Niggas is bitches.
Handle my business.
Getting this chicken off of these dishes.
I'm talking plates, most your dogs them niggas is snakes.
Cooking up with no sous chef, it's slow for em let em hate.
Counting these...

[Chorus]
Fives, Tens, Twenties, Fifties, Hundreds.
Thumbing through this paper. Don't Get Mad, get you some Money.
(Get you some Money!)
First you make sure that your kids straight.
(This what I prayed for!)
Then you cop the Rollie with the big face.
(And it's paid for!)
I'm talking...
Fives, Tens, Twenties, Fifties, Hundreds.
Thumbing through this paper. Don't Get Mad, get you some Money.
(Get you some Money!)
First you make sure that your kids straight.
(This what I prayed for!)
Then you cop the Rollie with the big face.
(And it's paid for!)

Recently Searched Lyrics

Recently Viewed Lyrics