Trae Tha Truth - Check lyrics

[Verse 1: T.I.] Clean money, talking limousine money Got a n***a hand hurting when he counting Get a new machine for me (we bout that motherf**ing) Dirty cash, want a break it, thirty cash In a new Mercedes Benz burning gas (we bout that motherf**ing) In god we trust, if you about that, you aight with us I only got a gat, won't fight, won't run, I'ma put it in your life (we bout that motherf**ing) Big bank roll, rubber band trap money That's what I had way before the rap money Now I got it and he don't n***a want to act funny Listen homie (we bout that motherf**ing check) Even still I'ma die for my respect You cross that line, let it fly about that Anybody know me, know that I ain't lying about that Matter fact (we bout that motherf**ing) Currency and revenue, all a n***a ever do is get it then spend it then get it, get it Whether misdemeanor or regional To felony to federal I got to heaven brah I'm telling you, telling you [Hook: T.I.] We bout that motherf**ing check (run it, run it) You better motherf**ing check Hustle gang in that motherf**er chyea We bout that motherf**ing check (turn it, turn it) Boy this how we motherf**ing do it Flip back, bust two, make mula (we bout that motherf**ing check) [Verse 2: Problem] I ain't talking nikes brah My diamonds are enlightening brah sh** flashed, think lightning struck Get you tightened up (we bout that motherf**ing) Two dub, no screw driver Diamond lane, no crew liver Bought another watch, I'm two timing Both boos shining (we bout that motherf**ing) Like an employee but I'm bossing on these hoes Either I'm campaigning on revenue or out flossing on my foes I do it for the n***as that was out on Slauson on the fours Then made a way to be able to be on Rodeo shop, shopping when it's closed Brah that's boss talk, Giuseppe's what a boss walk in This beef ain't no talking, f** walking Action, run up on me see Green up like a top of a tree Peanuts no cashew, seeing if I have to Everyday to get to a check what [Hook] [Verse 3: Young Dro] Aye hold up, Dro Tear the whole bed up b**h think I went to the crib (?) ATL mobbing, ATL robbing And when I hit a lick it be perfect just like a set up My b**h got a set My daughter, she about to turn six got a set Half a million dollars in cash from serving the gas That'll show a n***a b**h how to act Racks, all in your head like tylenol Pockets so big they thought I hit the powerball Tell your b**h hoody-hoo like the owl call We eating over here, south boy [Verse 4: Trae Tha Truth] Chyea, and I ain't finna play about it Any n***a try to f** with it, they better pray about it All about my business, I recommend that you stay up out it Yea I'm on the way up out of it Eight zeroes, everything on reload You can find me somewhere in the ghetto with a kilo (?) Cause all I pay is c notes There ain't sh** I won't stash Got to get cash, on a mission until I'm out of gas Hundred on the dash, I'ma put a hater on his a** Treat him like a new beat, I'ma put him on blast [Hook]