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PRADA MASK Video (MV)




Performed By: Money Man
Featuring: Zaytoven, Trauma Tone
Language: English
Length: 2:51
Written by: John Carrington Jr., Tysen Jay Bolding, Xavier Dotson




Money Man - PRADA MASK Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Zaytoven, Trauma Tone ]

Man, that f*ck-nigga do somethin', man
That nigga just moved in (Zaytoven)
And got all that traffic comin' in and out of that motherf*cker, man
He doin' somethin' (Trauma Tone)
And I can't put my finger on it

Niggas walkin' in my spot, leavin' out with grocery bags
I buy my hoes Bottega bags, rob a nigga in a Prada mask
Come here, baby, your fine ass, come here, baby, your sexy ass
I can't fall for none of these hoes, nigga, nice guys finish last
Shit get greasy on my side, nigga, quit talkin', come outside
Used to fight at Golden Glide, trap spot on Memorial Drive
We put weed in cereal boxes, we put opps in wooden coffins
Exhale good 'Za out our nostrils, we put diamonds in our goblets

Ask my girl how much I shoot, taught my kids to do it too
Go ask Roc how many sticks I bought, that nigga seen the proof
All my cribs is modern, all my bitches pretty as hell, nigga
All my cars is foreign and them bitches fast as hell, nigga
I turn street niggas to victims, lay shit down, nigga, I'm the victor
Every day I dodge the system, my young Oakland niggas bippin'
My young bitch be flippin' houses, I f*ck doctors and accountants
I know growers in the mountains, I'm too big to sell you ounces
I'm too big to sell you sevens, some of my nigga done lost they soul
They too evil to go to Heaven, I just modified this cutter
Watch me work this MAC-11, rich-ass plug, my floor is marble
I got packs and wooden parcels, so many Ps, my play startled
Bae, don't talk too much, I'm high, niggas ain't eatin', they phones dry
Used to take change to Coinstar, now I got like eight cars
Damn, lil' bae, you look scrumptious, 12 hit the lights, we take off buttons
Nigga, I drink on Tris and Wock, I don't sip on tea and crumpets
All my ex-hoes still want me, all my ex-girls stay in sample
Nigga, come play with my herd, he gon' get his bitch ass trample
I know smackers on Panola, I know smackers in Stone Mountain
My partner dropped them racks off yesterday, and, nigga, I'm still countin', let's go

Man, hold up, come here, come here, look at this shit
Man, this nigga got Lambs, TRXs, Jailbreaks
Nigga, Mercedes trucks pullin' up, man
Niggas leavin' up out that bitch with Duffel, bookbags
Man, that f*ck-nigga got somethin' goin' on, I'm tellin' you, man
I know a trap nigga when I see one, man
A nigga can't fool me
Where that nigga say he was from?
Oh, Decatur? He from the Eastside?
I bet that nigga got low numbers on them bitches
Where them niggas pullin' up?
Man, that nigga numbers gots to be low

Niggas walkin' in my spot, leavin' out with grocery bags
I buy my hoes Bottega bags, rob a nigga in a Prada mask
Come here, baby, your fine ass, come here, baby, your sexy ass
I can't fall for none of these hoes, nigga, nice guys finish last
Shit get greasy on my side, nigga, quit talkin', come outside
Used to fight at Golden Glide, trap spot on Memorial Drive
We put weed in cereal boxes, we put opps in wooden coffins
Exhale good 'Za out our nostrils, we put diamonds in our goblets
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


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English

Man, that f*ck-nigga do somethin', man
That nigga just moved in (Zaytoven)
And got all that traffic comin' in and out of that motherf*cker, man
He doin' somethin' (Trauma Tone)
And I can't put my finger on it

Niggas walkin' in my spot, leavin' out with grocery bags
I buy my hoes Bottega bags, rob a nigga in a Prada mask
Come here, baby, your fine ass, come here, baby, your sexy ass
I can't fall for none of these hoes, nigga, nice guys finish last
Shit get greasy on my side, nigga, quit talkin', come outside
Used to fight at Golden Glide, trap spot on Memorial Drive
We put weed in cereal boxes, we put opps in wooden coffins
Exhale good 'Za out our nostrils, we put diamonds in our goblets

Ask my girl how much I shoot, taught my kids to do it too
Go ask Roc how many sticks I bought, that nigga seen the proof
All my cribs is modern, all my bitches pretty as hell, nigga
All my cars is foreign and them bitches fast as hell, nigga
I turn street niggas to victims, lay shit down, nigga, I'm the victor
Every day I dodge the system, my young Oakland niggas bippin'
My young bitch be flippin' houses, I f*ck doctors and accountants
I know growers in the mountains, I'm too big to sell you ounces
I'm too big to sell you sevens, some of my nigga done lost they soul
They too evil to go to Heaven, I just modified this cutter
Watch me work this MAC-11, rich-ass plug, my floor is marble
I got packs and wooden parcels, so many Ps, my play startled
Bae, don't talk too much, I'm high, niggas ain't eatin', they phones dry
Used to take change to Coinstar, now I got like eight cars
Damn, lil' bae, you look scrumptious, 12 hit the lights, we take off buttons
Nigga, I drink on Tris and Wock, I don't sip on tea and crumpets
All my ex-hoes still want me, all my ex-girls stay in sample
Nigga, come play with my herd, he gon' get his bitch ass trample
I know smackers on Panola, I know smackers in Stone Mountain
My partner dropped them racks off yesterday, and, nigga, I'm still countin', let's go

Man, hold up, come here, come here, look at this shit
Man, this nigga got Lambs, TRXs, Jailbreaks
Nigga, Mercedes trucks pullin' up, man
Niggas leavin' up out that bitch with Duffel, bookbags
Man, that f*ck-nigga got somethin' goin' on, I'm tellin' you, man
I know a trap nigga when I see one, man
A nigga can't fool me
Where that nigga say he was from?
Oh, Decatur? He from the Eastside?
I bet that nigga got low numbers on them bitches
Where them niggas pullin' up?
Man, that nigga numbers gots to be low

Niggas walkin' in my spot, leavin' out with grocery bags
I buy my hoes Bottega bags, rob a nigga in a Prada mask
Come here, baby, your fine ass, come here, baby, your sexy ass
I can't fall for none of these hoes, nigga, nice guys finish last
Shit get greasy on my side, nigga, quit talkin', come outside
Used to fight at Golden Glide, trap spot on Memorial Drive
We put weed in cereal boxes, we put opps in wooden coffins
Exhale good 'Za out our nostrils, we put diamonds in our goblets
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: John Carrington Jr., Tysen Jay Bolding, Xavier Dotson
Copyright: Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING

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