Fat Trel - Making G's lyrics

[Sample:] Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap [Verse 1:] I'm all about my bacon-cheese, I told that money, "wait for me." Foolin out from A-Z, so basically don't play with me Smoke a bowl, cookin coke, f**in hoes in vacancy Stash house from Cali to Raleigh belong to Crazy G Good police and fake police, you hate police, I pay police Either or I even score, I bring in more you pay for lease They compare my weed stinks to deceased arm pits Fire arms, muscle up, south beach, I f**ed it up Hotel erotica, VH1 exotica Rental yacht, Key West, call that p**y Nautica Man, I swear all I got is a Goddess Stop to acknowledge her Pradas on my property, lotta cheese and broccoli Fake tits, fake lips, I just call her counterfeit Put her down, pick her up, it's back to who I found her with Haitian leaves, wrapping Jamaican trees Haters prey on me cause I be makin G's n***a we be... [Hook:] Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap [Verse 2:] All this money got me rollin with them fly b**hes Do or die b**hes, them ain't yours, you a liar, them is my b**hes I got a white b**h, I got a dyke b**h I got a love to shoot dice, love to fight b**h I got a love to mix the lean with the sprite b**h Sorry baby, I can't make it, got another flight b**h But you know what? But you know what? Man all them b**hes... [Hook:] Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap [Verse 3:] I feel like Lil' Fat, how I count my money backwards A savage in the trap, bumpin Webbie while we wrap up Rubber bands, duffle bags, prada, gucci, louie rags Whole lotta fire arms, lights off, laser tag Half a million dollars on my lap, what the f** is that? Call that pack, that Pheonix Jones, I open up, it's running back No b**hes don't work for me, my n***as where that money at My momma know she birthed a G, her son be worth 100 racks Money money money, and all I know is money homie Go and get some choppas maybe you can take it from me homie Me and Bada**, smokin loud all wild Keep some ecstasy and liquor lean, couldn't slow me down b**hes used to walk past, but them hoes know me now Got them b**hes pumpin pounds, till the shop close down Flight to Louisiana, my n***as with country grammar But don't ever get it twisted, they poppin tags and hammers [Hook:] Makin G's, ma-makin g's, makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, ma-makin g's, half a million dollars, half a million dollars, half a million dollars on my lap, on my lap