That boy broke, he tryna win the lottery
And they see my name and they copy me
This is real money, not Monopoly
Told that bitch that there ain't no stopping me
Tryna be yourself but you a wannabe, woah
Maison Margiela designing my- (clothes!)
But you know how it goes
I bailed myself out, come get back your swag, bitch
And I can't pronounce who made this sweater, it's not average
Give a fuck 'bout that cloning shit I'm not your dad, bitch
But maybe that shit the reason that I'm first you last, bitch
And I win, I win, I win, bitch, I'm a rockstar with that fit
And these waxed jeans come from Rick
Like I'm in a band got drums with the stick
That boy is too lame he not coming in
Bitch you not TJ, three shots and I- (Win)
Nah, matter of fact two shots and you out
Piss in your gravestone and I'm out
Ohh, We count fucking, commas
You not up like this put it on your momma
And everything I touch millions like I painted Mona
Ohhhhh
That boy broke, he tryna win the lottery
And they see my name and they copy me
This is real money, not Mon-
Told that bitch that there ain't no stopping me
Tryna be yourself but you a wannabe, woah
Maison Margiela designing my- (Clothes!)
But-but you know how it goes
And I'm back
B-b-back then had nobody with me
Imma get this money up, Imma stack it to the ceiling
And I got a pretty little bitch, they asking me how I'm feeling
(How you feel) Nah, fuck all that you know I feel great
Because I told my grandma you don't got to worry
About the lottery, none of that shit
I'll touch a million before I turn thirty
And that's on my life, in this bitch
If you tryna go up, better hurry
Because when I'm up, then that's it
I'm making plays, he still playing the lottery
You know damn well that he sick (Yeah)
(I'm making plays, he still playing the lottery)
♪
(Trying, trying, trying, to win the lottery)
(Trying, trying, trying, to win the lottery)
(Trying, trying, trying, to win the lottery)
(Trying, trying, trying, to win the lottery)