Couch God - Ain't for Fun (feat. Larro) Lyrics

All the bitches in the back bring that ass to the front
Dollar bills In my sack I could get you what you want
Put a price on your head only gotta do it once
In the trap we count the bread shit for real this aint for fun

Whole squad on kick door unload better get low
Leave you dead on the ground outlined like a stencil
Pulled up on ya block then you went ghost
Going hard for the fam like a Winslow
Grind hard peeled off in a benzo
Witcha bimbo and her kinfolk
Made them get low
Talk shit get erased like a pencil
My whole team get turned
Your whole team get burnt
She high on zans and perk
I came all on her shirt
Hand up her skirt for the sample
Nice grip real handful
Bad bitch with a big mouth with her tits out and she tryna kick shit like a sample
Turn up for the check
Bitch im in my bag
I see you mad but that's only cause your bitch a drag
I hit the stash for the big play
Work hard then you get paid
Tools on deck for the one that hat and the one that think shit sweet like a beignet
Im posted with the gang you just out her posing
Bitch I cracked the seal and left the bottle open
You know the turn up real when all the bitches naked
Vacum sealed that's the only way I take it

All the bitches in the back bring that ass to the front
Dollar bills In my sack I could get you what you want
Put a price on your head only gotta do it once
In the trap we count the bread shit for real this aint for fun

This shit aint for fun bitch I keep a gun
This shit aint a game get smoked like a dutch
If it was a game you know that I clutched
If it was ya main I don't give a f*ck
I wit the gang bitch you know wassup
Went against the grain turned his ass to dust
I remember making plays on the bus
Had to duck twelve laying in the cuts
I been that nigga since way back then
Heard you niggas wasn't getting paid back then
If you got that ima take that then
New pic new fit ima make that trend
Pull up on shorty had to put on some g shit
Diamonds on water had the lil bitch sea sick
Hundred round drum don't come with no week shit
All you niggas singing what you tryna do a remix
I got chips for real
I took trips for real
Had to play the hand that I was dealt so what's the deal
F*cked around and hit her raw na she like what's the pill
Told bro I got a job for him and he like what's the kill
Bitch you and dodging no beef
Ma Potna got hop out on feet
My pockets obese
I aint worried bout them in the least
You aint never made ten in a week
I got nothing but killers with me
We gon knock off his limb when we creep
At the light with the stick on the seat

All the bitches in the back bring that ass to the front
Dollar bills In my sack I could get you what you want
Put a price on your head only gotta do it once
In the trap we count the bread shit for real this aint for fun