[Lyric] Fuck Da Bullshit (Rich Friday Entertainment)

[Verse 1: Don Diva]
It's part of your fate, that's when your life'll start to begin
Caught up and slipping for fearing a mcdonald’s position
I opened my bible in search to be a better christian
Maybe this chapters over but the next is about to begin
Listen, uno papi chulo bout to show you what you been missing
Let the games begin let's settle this like men this is just the beginning

[Interlude: Rich $tunna]
Yeah. Fuck the bullshit. It's big money popping. Young Mula! Yeah, just like that. What up, young bitch? Let's go. Ms. Mama, brrrat!

[Verse 2: Ms. Mama]
I felt like it was time to begin
And i love your mind and ambition
Know just what you worth
We bеgin to fight in dearth
They dont dare to lеt us go unchecked
Smoking khaled, my weed the best
For a sacrifice, let us rise
Soul is the prize, deprive the thrive
This isn't no griot but a mere
Portion of a semi-important life
[Interlude: Rich $tunna]
Yeah. Fuck the bullshit. It's big money popping. Young Mula! Yeah, just like that. What up, young bitch? Let's go. Stunna, brr

[Verse 3: Rich $tunna]
St. louis, detroit, chi-town, nap
In their designer jean's back
I don't rock designer cloths
I rather rock and shock with that raiden robe
You know i’m stickin' to that
Proper code: strapped up, lock n load
Dont wear designer brands cause i can't afford em
Begin to make me feel like a little kid again
Wearin' up in a jacket and designer pelle pelle bitch
Play me for a stepping stone then, i land mine, huh
All my shit designer and i’m still a minor
You wear a shirt, my records sell yes sir
Remember meeting you in those italian heels and that designer dress
I shall not fear no man but
Godthough i walk through the valley of death
As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets
Become a coach designer of body bags and coca leaves
Got your whore doing shit that's uncalled for
Or your designer clothes littering the floor

[Interlude: Rich $tunna]
Yeah. Fuck the bullshit. It's big money popping. Young Mula! Yeah, just like that. What up, young bitch? Let's go. Ripsi WInelover, brr
[Verse 4: Ripsi Winelover]
Let us begin with a bad lil' specimen
Balenciagas, only things I be steppin in
Pucci bathing suits, only thing I'm dressing in
'Cause I get wetter than a navy seal veteran
Got—Got 'em writin love letters in they jour-n-al
Keep 'em on they toes like a midget at the urinal
To legitimize the prize money
When i arrive the whole town gets sunny
Blow up on this society
Getting to the money
Money bring pain,money bring gain
And reflect on the rap game, i came
Shit i bought them tracks, stupid bitch i'm broke
Big and fat, as my big fat oak
Like how the fuck did we miss this kid's shit
Music is money, money isn't music
Like my remy with no juice
You a lot like bishop
Money come and money
Go still money problems addin up
Big tits and a big ass
Lights will flash, cars will crash

[Interlude: Rich $tunna]
Yeah. Fuck the bullshit. It's big money popping
Fuck the bullshit
Fuck the bullshit
Fuck the bullshit
It's big money popping
Fuck the bullshit
Fuck the bullshit
It's big money popping