Bands Guaps Racks - (Suzu X $lickity$ensei)

[intro] "suzu sensei on da beat" [hook] Bands, guaps, racks, money (turn it) I own the lever (turn it) Bands, guaps, racks, money (earn it) Stack it up, stack it up (yeah) Bands, guaps, racks, money (turn it) I'm the master (turn it) Bands, guaps, racks, money (earn it) Count it up, count it up (yeah) [suzu] Suzu slickity, quickity richer than the block ever predicted me Turn a trap house into a tax break, ain't no guilt ever gettin' to me Money turnin', pockets burnin', every scar carry its own story I don't rob you, bitch, I bill you, then I frame it like it's allegory Old money nervous, new money servin', watch the interest come in triplicate Flip a duffel bag into a syndicate, gone before you can indicate it Steal it, peel it, fifty layers deep, ain't nobody know where I kept it Dirty money laundered clean then dirtied up again watch me perfect it Turn your whole circle to collateral, every friend became a liability Plug 'em in and drain 'em dry, then I disappear and pocket the guarantee I don't chase a bag, I let it walk up and surrender Flip your whole operation inside out turn a lender to a spender Suzu run the turn, they never catch me slippin', ever Every dollar in my palm turn to a hundred that's forever Watch me convert your whole hustle into tribute, I'm the toll collector Slickity Suzu everybody flip, I'm the one who owns the lever [hook] Bands, guaps, racks, money (turn it) I own the lever (turn it) Bands, guaps, racks, money (earn it) Stack it up, stack it up (yeah) Bands, guaps, racks, money (turn it) I'm the master (turn it) Bands, guaps, racks, money (earn it) Count it up, count it up (yeah) [Sensei] I ain’t never slidin back to broke I seen them bands, I seen that hope Fuck around with that, it’s smoke Holy Ghost, holy smoke Popped a script, wasn’t prescribed Chase the bag, I ain’t hide Crush them pills, gnash and grind Seeing colors, Bands, guaps, racks, money, green geeen payday Hating ass bitches at the end of the day Looking for anythin just to shine Leave these hoes singin like they on the stage, dine I hit the door right after that throat Text my line, said she sober now Glock 18, 19 rounds loaded down Drugs hit hard, you won’t even know it Off the wall, better not show it Three for one, that’s a steal, no bargain Big dawg, all these bitches barkin Bought more straps for the target Need more arms, models still walkin I’m from Cali’, ain’t with the talkin Spoiled lil’ brat, swear she always bummin Shorty bad, but she got you bossin Fucking on muhfuckas who ain’t chasin money Let ’em knock you up, fill up your tummy I like ’em flawless, I like ’em flossy Body curvy, lips all glossy glocks n crocs, throw it in sport Big boy keep it saucey [outro] Bands, guaps, racks, money (turn it) Bands, guaps, racks, money (run it) Stack it, flip it, count it, run it Bands, guaps, racks, money Bands, guaps, racks, money (turn it) Bands, guaps, racks, money (run it) Whole city know I'm on it Bands, guaps, racks, money