Get out ya feelings by Trapdollazmanny Lyrics
Get out your feelings
And jump in ya bag
Countin these hunnits, in the back of the bach
Bitch get off my phone
I’m not calling back
It ain’t about money but I still keep it a stack
I be like where the money at
That love shit I ain’t inna dat
I’m to busy getting to the racks
You broke niggas can’t shop at saks
Diamonds blind em give em Cataracts
Money stacked tall just like Shaq
Big bills and I ont gotta cap
I’ll shoot a nigga just like a pap
They love my songs like its crack
Get out your feelings
Jump in ya bag
Don’t want no dealings
Bitch you going out sad
I ont be in my feelings
I'm chasing the racks
Could never be me going out sad
Gimmie the loot
I’ll take that over feelings
I don’t got enough money, if it ain’t stacked to the ceiling
I ont need love, bitch I love my money
If it ain’t blue, it don’t do nothing 4 me
I like my wallet how I like my pockets, chubby
I got some shootas out in baltimore, yeah they some dummies
They be hating but that’s just how they show me they love me
Niggas be going out sad, looking dirty and bummy
Get out your feelings
And jump in ya bag
Countin these hunnits, in the back of the bach
Bitch get off my phone
I’m not calling back
It ain’t about money but I still keep it a stack
Give em the boot
If they got they hand out
No I’m not rico, but a bitch can get smacked down
Tell them niggas don't play wit me
Cause this not a play ground
Them niggas be tripping
Send em off on the greyhound!
Get out your feelings
And jump in ya bag
Countin these hunnits, in the back of the bach
Bitch get off my phone
I’m not calling back
It ain’t about money but I still keep it a stack
Jump in ya bag
Get out ya feelings
And jump in ya bag
Get out ya feelings
And go jump in ya bag!
And jump in ya bag
Countin these hunnits, in the back of the bach
Bitch get off my phone
I’m not calling back
It ain’t about money but I still keep it a stack
I be like where the money at
That love shit I ain’t inna dat
I’m to busy getting to the racks
You broke niggas can’t shop at saks
Diamonds blind em give em Cataracts
Money stacked tall just like Shaq
Big bills and I ont gotta cap
I’ll shoot a nigga just like a pap
They love my songs like its crack
Get out your feelings
Jump in ya bag
Don’t want no dealings
Bitch you going out sad
I ont be in my feelings
I'm chasing the racks
Could never be me going out sad
Gimmie the loot
I’ll take that over feelings
I don’t got enough money, if it ain’t stacked to the ceiling
I ont need love, bitch I love my money
If it ain’t blue, it don’t do nothing 4 me
I like my wallet how I like my pockets, chubby
I got some shootas out in baltimore, yeah they some dummies
They be hating but that’s just how they show me they love me
Niggas be going out sad, looking dirty and bummy
Get out your feelings
And jump in ya bag
Countin these hunnits, in the back of the bach
Bitch get off my phone
I’m not calling back
It ain’t about money but I still keep it a stack
Give em the boot
If they got they hand out
No I’m not rico, but a bitch can get smacked down
Tell them niggas don't play wit me
Cause this not a play ground
Them niggas be tripping
Send em off on the greyhound!
Get out your feelings
And jump in ya bag
Countin these hunnits, in the back of the bach
Bitch get off my phone
I’m not calling back
It ain’t about money but I still keep it a stack
Jump in ya bag
Get out ya feelings
And jump in ya bag
Get out ya feelings
And go jump in ya bag!