Doughboyz Cashout - Thousandaire lyrics

[HBK] Doughboyz Cashout (4-1, you already know what it is) What Up Chef (Whats happenin' baby) (Real street n***as) My Park Street n***as (Been gettin' money) (Stand Up) Write movies in this muthaf**a [HBK] Smokin' fire with a bad b**h that look like Mya Out of town with the weight, Ronnie Jackson the driver Hit up Neiman's at Northland, and maybe stop and Godiva She a lier if she say she say she ain't f** me she admire My Jewelry game pretty like Chadha Azure Spark it up with anything, matches, candles, and lighters Can't f** with the stove, right now it's in motion Pay whippin' the potion, the sh** white as some lotion Got her wet as the ocean, I'm swimmin' in it and strokin' Now lil' n***a focused, cause we ridin' in this Focus The bag in the trunk, Wa-lah, hocus pocus All these b**hes wanna know us, wanna f** before we blow up I put it on my chain she gon' s** me when I show up Kush, baby roll up, Ciroc made her throw up We never gave hope up, just give us the work Money counters and scales, and we gon' have the streets sold up [Hook: 4-1 Payroll] I'mma thousandaire, with a million dollar brain A icy a** watch and a chunky a** chain Pushin' whips through the slums Blowin' kush, switchin' lanes They like "How you got that chain?" (b**h I got it off the cain') I'mma thousandaire, with a million dollar brain A icy a** watch and a chunky a** chain Pushin' whips through the slums Blowin' kush, switchin' lanes They like "How you got that chain?" (b**h I got it off the cain') [Chefman] Got loud on deck, gettin' wasted like a patient My eyes so low, got me lookin' like a Asian Pockets on tilt n***a f** being patient f** around and get k**ed trynna plot up on my paper My whole crew take of money makers and some k**ers You f**in' with Lions, Tigers, Bears, and Gorillas Part street n***a, everybody got loot We the 95' Bulls, everybody gon' shoot Stacks in my Levis, whippin' straight drop pies Man I'm in the kitchen cookin' chickens like Popeyes Goose got me swervin, smokin' purple in my Burban' Chef and them Cashout boys, that's for certain Bowls of the Kush, I don't smoke the Reggie Bush My big homie Jig told me "n***a Push, n***a Push!" Heavy on the liquor, throwin' hundreds at the strippers And every bad b**h need a Park Street n***a [Hook] [4-1 Payroll] Lookin' through my Louie Frames, sittin' in the Coupe Used to be a snotty nose n***a, sittin' on the stoop My Re-up was small, I used to fit it in my shoe Now my bag come from Cali, or I get it from a Jew We the truth, in the club, sippin' Rosé til I puke Blow my horn at yo b**h, now she blowin' on my flute God forbid, if I ever get jammed, I'm goin' mute I'm from the city where the hoes set you up and n***as shoot O.G's put me up on game a long time ago Told my j**eler "With my next chain, I'm gon' blind a ho" Always in the streets makin' moves, I ain't got time for hoes Wake yo b**h up in my suite like "Ho it's time to go" 4-1 raised me, custos paid me Narcs on they job, so how the f** I'm gon' be lazy It's the D boy, the wrong sh** could get you k**ed But at the same time the wrong sh** could get you that scrill [Hook]