Yeah
Yeah
Ha, bitch you know what the f*ck goin' on
Yeah, yeah
We up in this bitch
It's ya boy Rich Money
Yeah
Bleh
Yeah
Bleh, bleh
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Look at the time
Droppin' the tape
Right back to work
I don't need breaks
I just been chasing the cash, the bag, the racks and put 'em in safes
Then its the lab all night, don't sleep, the drugs they keep me awake
All of ya'll keep passing out
Bitch keep my name out your mouth
You just hoping that I notice
So I could give you free clout
It don't work like that
Bitch I work for what I have
You ain't even worth half, time in a hour glass
Times in the past, racks used to seem so far now they at
My damn front door
They knockin' I'm like, "hello"
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Okay racks on the floor
Uh
Let them all fall
Uh
I been stackin' up my money it make Shaq look small
Yah
Cashin' out on designer, I don't shop in the mall
Ouu
And I just spend the hunnids, the ones I throw em all
Yah
I do the shows
Oh yah
Then I get dough
Oh yah
My life it don't slow
Oh yah
I stay on the go
Oh yah
Just like the flow
You want some more
This shit like coke
Oh yah
Bitch you a joke
Hope you can float
Then you can gloat
Oh yah
5 grams in a wood
Smoke is comin' to your hood
Blunt straight lookin' like, a cigar for Suge
A cigar for Castro
I'll decapitate you bastards
Your bitch callin' me an asshole
That's cool, that bitch was a hassle
I live fast, die slow
That's my M-O
Get high, lie low
I don't want you comin' close
Bitch I don't speak broke
I only speak in what I wrote
I'm the coldest of em all
Even colder than the poles
I'm even colder in my heart
We ain't making pie charts
'Cause I'm taking all the parts
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Commas Video (MV)
$ Rich Money $ & Yungyin - Commas Lyrics
Official
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Yeah
Yeah
Ha, bitch you know what the f*ck goin' on
Yeah, yeah
We up in this bitch
It's ya boy Rich Money
Yeah
Bleh
Yeah
Bleh, bleh
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Look at the time
Droppin' the tape
Right back to work
I don't need breaks
I just been chasing the cash, the bag, the racks and put 'em in safes
Then its the lab all night, don't sleep, the drugs they keep me awake
All of ya'll keep passing out
Bitch keep my name out your mouth
You just hoping that I notice
So I could give you free clout
It don't work like that
Bitch I work for what I have
You ain't even worth half, time in a hour glass
Times in the past, racks used to seem so far now they at
My damn front door
They knockin' I'm like, "hello"
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Okay racks on the floor
Uh
Let them all fall
Uh
I been stackin' up my money it make Shaq look small
Yah
Cashin' out on designer, I don't shop in the mall
Ouu
And I just spend the hunnids, the ones I throw em all
Yah
I do the shows
Oh yah
Then I get dough
Oh yah
My life it don't slow
Oh yah
I stay on the go
Oh yah
Just like the flow
You want some more
This shit like coke
Oh yah
Bitch you a joke
Hope you can float
Then you can gloat
Oh yah
5 grams in a wood
Smoke is comin' to your hood
Blunt straight lookin' like, a cigar for Suge
A cigar for Castro
I'll decapitate you bastards
Your bitch callin' me an asshole
That's cool, that bitch was a hassle
I live fast, die slow
That's my M-O
Get high, lie low
I don't want you comin' close
Bitch I don't speak broke
I only speak in what I wrote
I'm the coldest of em all
Even colder than the poles
I'm even colder in my heart
We ain't making pie charts
'Cause I'm taking all the parts
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Yeah
Ha, bitch you know what the f*ck goin' on
Yeah, yeah
We up in this bitch
It's ya boy Rich Money
Yeah
Bleh
Yeah
Bleh, bleh
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Look at the time
Droppin' the tape
Right back to work
I don't need breaks
I just been chasing the cash, the bag, the racks and put 'em in safes
Then its the lab all night, don't sleep, the drugs they keep me awake
All of ya'll keep passing out
Bitch keep my name out your mouth
You just hoping that I notice
So I could give you free clout
It don't work like that
Bitch I work for what I have
You ain't even worth half, time in a hour glass
Times in the past, racks used to seem so far now they at
My damn front door
They knockin' I'm like, "hello"
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Okay racks on the floor
Uh
Let them all fall
Uh
I been stackin' up my money it make Shaq look small
Yah
Cashin' out on designer, I don't shop in the mall
Ouu
And I just spend the hunnids, the ones I throw em all
Yah
I do the shows
Oh yah
Then I get dough
Oh yah
My life it don't slow
Oh yah
I stay on the go
Oh yah
Just like the flow
You want some more
This shit like coke
Oh yah
Bitch you a joke
Hope you can float
Then you can gloat
Oh yah
5 grams in a wood
Smoke is comin' to your hood
Blunt straight lookin' like, a cigar for Suge
A cigar for Castro
I'll decapitate you bastards
Your bitch callin' me an asshole
That's cool, that bitch was a hassle
I live fast, die slow
That's my M-O
Get high, lie low
I don't want you comin' close
Bitch I don't speak broke
I only speak in what I wrote
I'm the coldest of em all
Even colder than the poles
I'm even colder in my heart
We ain't making pie charts
'Cause I'm taking all the parts
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Pay me bitch I'm an artist
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up on the guala
Only thinkin' commas, gotta come up wit the guala
Writer: Richmond Rodriguez
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid