Money Man - Pick What You Want Lyrics

(Sauceman)
(No, no tears, no tears)

Take you to Sally's, you pick what you want
Take you to Sally's, you pick what you want
We havin' motion, these lil' niggas don't
Go hit Bottega, girl, pick what you want
Burberry letterman came with the squares
We stay on point, so we stayin' prepared
Come on, lil' mama, come into my lair
Hit from the back, I'ma pull on your hair
Hundred round point mag, it sound like a snare
Get wild at the show and get hit with a chair
Custom made muzzle, it look like a flare
Countin' a million by hand, you don't know the feeling, I wish you was there
You want Givenchy? I'll swipe you a pair
Private jet set, bae, let's f*ck in the air
Make sure you f*ck me good, do not hold back
Just for your hair and nails, here go a rack

PMO hit me, they know I'm a product
Bought her some mules because she got the conduct
They pay me 50K just for a pop-up
I see 'em, I spot 'em, I'm lightin' a opp up
This car robotic, I'm lettin' the top up
They do it big, but I doubt they could top us
Let you get fly, get you personal shoppers
Designer weed, got the trap going bonkers
Fly out to London to buy out the store
Walk into Harrods, they shut down the floor
Me and Rod racin' in back to back 'Ghinis
Really a big dog, can't f*ck with you weenies
Say that you know me, but you never seen me
Say that she love me to death and I'm dreamy
I hit New Orleans, they treat me like Weezy
I hit the Nola, yeah, they treat me like B.G.
Feel like Osama, ain't talkin' 'bout DD
Shoutout to Kanye, I'm scammin' in Yeezy
This shit for life, so you know ain't no leavin'
You better f*ck, damn, I swear that I'm fiendin'
All 'bout that paper, I'm bluein' and greenin'
Shit can get wicked, I hang with the heathens
Don't you call my phone 'til the lil' opp nigga bleedin'
I just bust down a product with my card, too easy

Take you to Sally's, you pick what you want
Take you to Sally's, you pick what you want
We havin' motion, these lil' niggas don't
Go hit Bottega, girl, pick what you want
Burberry letterman came with the squares
We stay on point, so we stayin' prepared
Come on, lil' mama, come into my lair
Hit from the back, I'ma pull on your hair
Hundred round point mag, it sound like a snare
Get wild at the show and get hit with a chair
Custom made muzzle, it look like a flare
Countin' a million by hand, you don't know the feelin', I wish you was there
You want Givenchy? I'll swipe you a pair
Private jet set, bae, let's f*ck in the air
Make sure you f*ck me good, do not hold back
Just for your hair and nails, here go a rack