Stinky Money - Tiny Meat Gang

Man, this menu’s fucking weird

Yo, what the fuck is «beans on toast»?

Wait, hold up, hold up

-Good evening, gentleman, what will you be having this evening?

-Uh, you got no fries here?

-Um, no, we do not have any fries, I’m so sorry

-Alright, I’ll get the, uh, bangers and ass

-Ah yes, and for you sir?

-Yeah, I’ll get the same shit

-Ah, perfect, that’ll be two orders of bangers and ass

Excellent choice

I got that, rolly

My diamonds, they holy

Your girlfriend, below me

She sucking my balogna

Stinky money, stinky money, stinky money

Man, that shit’s smelling funny

I got that, stinky

Ice on my, pinky

Lexanis on my 'Ghini

I got that tiny weenie

Stinky money, stinky money, stinky money

Man, that shit’s smelling funny

Yeah

Pull up with the bag, I don’t mean to brag

But I got them racks, smelling like a rag

Zeroes on the tags, light up, take a drag

Stinky like my cash, that shit make you gag (yah)

All this money laundered (yeah)

But it still smell like death (okay)

I wake up talking cheddar (uh), just call that morning breath (ha)

I stack this paper tall, them smelly, soggy racks, (ay)

My wallet on the table, she said, «Did you rip ass?»

She two-faced for the blue face, boy you can’t trust these hoes (nuh-uh)

You want these bands, baby?

Toucan Sam, bitch follow your nose

I got that, rolly

My diamonds, they holy

Your girlfriend, below me

She sucking my baloney

Stinky money, stinky money, stinky money

Man, that shit’s smelling funny

I got that, stinky

Ice on my, pinky

Lexanis on my 'Ghini

I got that tiny weenie

Stinky money, stinky money, stinky money

Man, that shit’s smelling funny

My money stinky as fuck, call that shit Pepé Le Pew

Got a hundred bands in my Louis bag, Jack smell like a got a skunk in the coop

Now I got the feds in my whip

Looking for a pack in the glovebox

Covering they nose when they open up the duffle

Thinking that the motherfucker got gym socks

My bands be seasoned with stripper shit

That’s what I like to call chocolate chips

Your bank account lookin' tore up

I got old bread, make you wanna throw up (uh)

Reach into my ass, pull out cash, you like, «Who the fuck?

That a damn deposit or some ten-year aged gouda, bitch?»

I got that, rolly

My diamonds, they holy

Your girlfriend, below me

She sucking my baloney

Stinky money, stinky money, stinky money

Man, that shit’s smelling funny

I got that, stinky

Ice on my, pinky

Lexanis on my 'Ghini

I got that tiny weenie

Stinky money, stinky money, stinky money

Man, that shit’s smelling funny