10 bands in 10 minutes, that's 600 seconds
The type of money big bros spend is why they call him legend
F*ck the cops, when I turned 12, I said I was 11
Don't call a dime, this bitch nine, I'm getting ate (eight) by seven
Found out rich better than broke, guess what niggas did
Money Kanye crazy, baby, so I went off the grid
Going broke is not a topic, nigga, God forbid
The opps is running out of f*cking options, so them niggas hid
Track runners, 1200, looking like some asics
Amiri Tee with purple jeans, I'm trying to keep it basic
I think the new plug cut the bag, I told my fiend come taste it
My lil' niggas head tappers, all they know is face shit
Designer bags filled up on money, got it straight from Chase
Shout out to my ace
And shout out to your B.M, nigga, man, I love her face
Was at a crib when she moved in, like, yeah I love this place
Stupid, goofy, brokey
I hang money around my crib, yeah, that's my type of trophy
One day, hold on, 18,000, man, we love you Sophie
All my bitches green, and I ain't talking about my hoes, cause all them bitches mean
Lil' bro popped out Ksubi Jeans Supreme and them McQueens
Yeah, he tryna go crazy
Money magic, broke to rest, get racks just like McGrady
This Glock a knock like Tank, got 31 like Devin Haney
You get it? He 31 and zero
I never lost, and if I did, I went and fixed the score
I can't find my joint papers, bae go hit the store
She gon' do whatever I say, she call me Mr. Moe
No, I don't like that shit
High as hell, laying on some ass, f*ck around and bite that shit
If you know, you know
We coppin' pints, we geeked up, pourin' four for 4s
Them niggas scary, drop the lo, they won't go blow for blow
Y'all is not having no motion, let's go show for show
Like, where the f*ck is Dan? I can't switch up on my man, get rich, stick to the plan
Can't show my face around this place, we slidin' tinted vans
Too much motion, tell the club, I'm slidin' in advance
I got the biggest booth, we havin' shit, not even 21, bitch, I'm the truth
White lil' bitch keep sayin, babe, she must be talkin' bout Ruth
Shoutout to my throat goat, I never felt a tooth
Don't wanna f*ck the head too good, I know that pussy loose
Qmoe - 600 Seconds Lyrics
Qmoe - 600 Seconds Lyrics
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English
10 bands in 10 minutes, that's 600 seconds
The type of money big bros spend is why they call him legend
F*ck the cops, when I turned 12, I said I was 11
Don't call a dime, this bitch nine, I'm getting ate (eight) by seven
Found out rich better than broke, guess what niggas did
Money Kanye crazy, baby, so I went off the grid
Going broke is not a topic, nigga, God forbid
The opps is running out of f*cking options, so them niggas hid
Track runners, 1200, looking like some asics
Amiri Tee with purple jeans, I'm trying to keep it basic
I think the new plug cut the bag, I told my fiend come taste it
My lil' niggas head tappers, all they know is face shit
Designer bags filled up on money, got it straight from Chase
Shout out to my ace
And shout out to your B.M, nigga, man, I love her face
Was at a crib when she moved in, like, yeah I love this place
Stupid, goofy, brokey
I hang money around my crib, yeah, that's my type of trophy
One day, hold on, 18,000, man, we love you Sophie
All my bitches green, and I ain't talking about my hoes, cause all them bitches mean
Lil' bro popped out Ksubi Jeans Supreme and them McQueens
Yeah, he tryna go crazy
Money magic, broke to rest, get racks just like McGrady
This Glock a knock like Tank, got 31 like Devin Haney
You get it? He 31 and zero
I never lost, and if I did, I went and fixed the score
I can't find my joint papers, bae go hit the store
She gon' do whatever I say, she call me Mr. Moe
No, I don't like that shit
High as hell, laying on some ass, f*ck around and bite that shit
If you know, you know
We coppin' pints, we geeked up, pourin' four for 4s
Them niggas scary, drop the lo, they won't go blow for blow
Y'all is not having no motion, let's go show for show
Like, where the f*ck is Dan? I can't switch up on my man, get rich, stick to the plan
Can't show my face around this place, we slidin' tinted vans
Too much motion, tell the club, I'm slidin' in advance
I got the biggest booth, we havin' shit, not even 21, bitch, I'm the truth
White lil' bitch keep sayin, babe, she must be talkin' bout Ruth
Shoutout to my throat goat, I never felt a tooth
Don't wanna f*ck the head too good, I know that pussy loose
The type of money big bros spend is why they call him legend
F*ck the cops, when I turned 12, I said I was 11
Don't call a dime, this bitch nine, I'm getting ate (eight) by seven
Found out rich better than broke, guess what niggas did
Money Kanye crazy, baby, so I went off the grid
Going broke is not a topic, nigga, God forbid
The opps is running out of f*cking options, so them niggas hid
Track runners, 1200, looking like some asics
Amiri Tee with purple jeans, I'm trying to keep it basic
I think the new plug cut the bag, I told my fiend come taste it
My lil' niggas head tappers, all they know is face shit
Designer bags filled up on money, got it straight from Chase
Shout out to my ace
And shout out to your B.M, nigga, man, I love her face
Was at a crib when she moved in, like, yeah I love this place
Stupid, goofy, brokey
I hang money around my crib, yeah, that's my type of trophy
One day, hold on, 18,000, man, we love you Sophie
All my bitches green, and I ain't talking about my hoes, cause all them bitches mean
Lil' bro popped out Ksubi Jeans Supreme and them McQueens
Yeah, he tryna go crazy
Money magic, broke to rest, get racks just like McGrady
This Glock a knock like Tank, got 31 like Devin Haney
You get it? He 31 and zero
I never lost, and if I did, I went and fixed the score
I can't find my joint papers, bae go hit the store
She gon' do whatever I say, she call me Mr. Moe
No, I don't like that shit
High as hell, laying on some ass, f*ck around and bite that shit
If you know, you know
We coppin' pints, we geeked up, pourin' four for 4s
Them niggas scary, drop the lo, they won't go blow for blow
Y'all is not having no motion, let's go show for show
Like, where the f*ck is Dan? I can't switch up on my man, get rich, stick to the plan
Can't show my face around this place, we slidin' tinted vans
Too much motion, tell the club, I'm slidin' in advance
I got the biggest booth, we havin' shit, not even 21, bitch, I'm the truth
White lil' bitch keep sayin, babe, she must be talkin' bout Ruth
Shoutout to my throat goat, I never felt a tooth
Don't wanna f*ck the head too good, I know that pussy loose
Writer: Q Moe
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid