Mr. Pay For Shit (Feat. Bendadonnn)

Like, boss, I ain't gon', I ain't gon' do to much boppin' (ha)
You know what I'm sayin'? I go straight at a bitch like
Look, I'm havin' that cash (right)
If you wanna fuck with a boss, you can do that (right)
It's a whole bunch of, you know what I'm sayin'
Lame niggas doin' they thing over here, but we ain't fuckin' with them niggas
Like, I'll tell a ho straight up
If I ain't got an M in my Cash App, ho, you can slap me in my face, real talk
(Known to let the MAC fly just like my nigga Doe)
That's how I'm poppin' it, let's go

Uh-huh, we ready, uh, we ready (yeah)
We ready, uh, we ready (let's go)
We ready, uh, uh, we ready
We ready, uh, we ready (yeah, yeah)

I'm like oh my fuckin' God, hmm
This bitch thicker than a Benz, the Maybach truck in my garage, hmm
That nigga ain't on shit, I'll give you 5K to come outside, ayy
She cool with fuckin' a lame, tried to boss her up, on God, I tried
Tryna retire her out the strip club if she ask what's on my mind, hmm (yup)
Every time we hit the strip club, we throwin' ones
We got Drake on speed dial, with BenDaDonnn and we got funds (yeah)
All these thick red bitches in the strip club like J Mulan
All this money I'm havin', it's impossible just to go and fuck on one (ayy)
I need two (ayy), I need three (ayy), I need four bad bitches
I need five, I need six, I need seven bad bitches
I need eight, I need nine, I need ten bad bitches

I ain't gon' lie, man, Ben, let me you ask you somethin', man (what's up, bro?)
From shit popper to shit popper, right? (Yup)
I ain't gon' lie (talk to me)
I'm the type of nigga, I feel like I'll go broke on a bad bitch, like
I'll take my shoes off and make this bitch walk with me barefoot
While I'm barefoot just so she can walk in my shoes, what you think? (I stamp it, nigga, yeah)
That's just the type of nigga I am, like, niggas make it seem like I'm a simp, like
I'm a- I'm just doin' whatever for a bad bitch, uh, uh (me too)

Excuse me, baby girl, how you doin'? I'm Mr. Pay For Shit (yeah)
He told you wait 'til Friday, over here, you ain't gotta wait for shit
It's that time of the month, just go back home, baby, you ain't missin' shit
Private strip club at your crib, this all for you, throwin' dog shit (let's go)
I like short bitches (yeah), brown and red and even like tall shit
Whether she Asian and persuasion, I don't give a fuck, they all hit
We might fuck from time to time, but that's on God, that's y'all bitch
She finna blow my mind, she don't need a pole, she doin' wall splits (yeah)
This trip can't meet the group chat, you better not speak on shit we done
What the fuck is that? Oh my God, he broke, you better run
Hmm, hmm, now stop and do the running man
Run from that brokie, run, run, do the running man (yeah)

Uh-huh, we ready, uh, we ready (yeah)
We ready, uh, we ready (let's go)
We ready, uh, uh, we ready
We ready, uh, we ready (yeah)

Just to go and fuck on one
I need two, I need three, I need four bad bitches
I need five, I need six, I need seven bad bitches
I need eight, I need nine, I need ten bad bitches (let's go)
Uh
Yeah
We ready, uh, we ready (let's go)
We ready, uh, we ready (yeah, yeah)