Lyrics QUE. – Weed Bank
Text:
Pull up to the bank, nigga smelling like weed
Hop out the truck, I deposit the cheese
Half in Ralph, half in Ps
Some this shit dirty and some this shit clean
Pockets on clumps, chunky as fuck
Bales of mid, too much to scale
You ain’t coming big, then fuck it oh well
Two extra pounds in the bale, that’s all you
Can’t come inside unannounced, gotta call through
She gon’ suck the soul out a nigga ’til her jaws blue
Nigga just blew a band like I won a lawsuit
Lord have mercy, thousand perkys, shippin’ bales of Albuquerque
Will not talk to workers, I’m the boss, I talk in third person
Circle tighter than a virgin
Sippin’ purple like it’s bourbon
Half a P wrapped in a turban
Just in case they try to search it
Watch your step when you pass me
Fuck that bitch, this last week
These bitch ass niggas drag queens
Two hoes with me playing tag team
Unload 100 bows, snuck ’em through the front door
Got ’em off, now I got a bankroll
Blowin’ on some good dope, fuckin’ on a hood ho
Hell yeah, ‘fore the bank close nigga I’m a
Pull up to the bank, nigga smelling like weed
Hop out the truck, I deposit the cheese
Half in Ralph, half in Ps
Some this shit dirty and some this shit clean
Pockets on clumps, chunky as fuck
Bales of mid, too much to scale
You ain’t coming big, then fuck it oh well
I just doubled up on a brand new plug
Now a nigga got one for every single drug
You pour Ciroq, nigga we pour the mud
She think I’m a pay for the cat, that’s a dub
I rock Chanel, your nigga rock love
I just bought a new stick and filled it with slugs
Don’t say none’ but I just fucked on what’s her name
That bitch in fuckin’ chain, dancin’ hard like Usher rain
This shit here a dirty game
My wrist is a hurricane
Pull up to the bank smelling like a pound of mary jane
I’m inside your bitch, she say she riding with me right or wrong
She gon’ hop on top and ride this dick until her ties gon’
Bought me a Rollie off of dope money nigga
Now my wrist look like a snow cone
Got half things, whole things, QPs
Young nigga sellin’ ice cream like Coldstone
Pull up to the bank, nigga smelling like weed
Hop out the truck, I deposit the cheese
Half in Ralph, half in Ps
Some this shit dirty and some this shit clean
Mixing it up, Burberry Chucks
Pockets on clumps, chunky as fuck
Bales of mid, too much to scale
You ain’t coming big, then fuck it oh well
