Baby Money Ft Skilla Baby – How Many Times Lyrics

How Many Times Lyrics by Baby Money Ft Skilla Baby

[Intro: Baby Money]
(Flexin’)
(Cypress)
Yeah, go

[Verse 1: Baby Money]
Fuck the whip, I’m droppin’ ashes on the red leather
Threesomes every day, I think I finally found my damn fetish
Left her for another bitch ’cause her head better
She told me she don’t need a nigga ’cause her man petty
The plug told me cuh, I’ma win, I think I’m Craig Petties
First to the third, we ain’t givin’ out no damn credit
Back on the car, so when I aim, it make my stance better
Grip on the Glock, so when I shoot, it keep my hand stеady
Y’all down two, we still spinnin’, hope your mans ready
Dirty nails, nеver seen my face, but my hands in it
If I ain’t get on feet myself, then my mans did it
Drop a nigga, put him on the ‘Gram, killer cam, nigga
This ain’t no SRT truck, this a Lamb’, nigga
Hand on my pistol, through my life, I done hammed niggas
Can’t talk crazy on the ‘Gram and be a family nigga
Work make me wanna cherish money, I used to scam niggas

[Chorus: Baby Money]
How many times I told you we was gon’ get with you? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was still spinning? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon’ come and get you?
You got tricked off the streets and end up dyin’ with your niggas (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was gon’ get rich, bitch? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon’ be the shit, bitch?
How many times I told you we was still lit?
Don’t call my phone about no ho if she made it to my list, man (How many times?)

[Verse 2: Skilla Baby]
Ha, I don’t know how many times I blew at his ass
I’m quick to slide down a nigga block and shoot at his ass
Got one nigga creepin’ at his door and two in the grass
You better not shoot at that nigga legs, you better shoot at his head
Man, I’ll slide down, blow the fully out the striker ’til the clip on fire
Like a lighter, this murder for hire
Have bro catch him in the county, stab him up, Michael Myers
Don’t care who bitch it is, I’ma get her if I like her
New Patek on, Skilla, I see you stackin’ pros
Leave with some hoes, that’s just what I do at my shows
Psych, nah, I’m boostin’, man, you know I don’t fuck fans
Every time I make twenty thousand, I tuck ten, ha

[Chorus: Baby Money]
How many times I told you we was gon’ get with you? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was still spinning? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon’ come and get you?
You got tricked off the streets and end up dyin’ with your niggas (How many times?)
How many times I told you we was gon’ get rich, bitch? (How many times?)
How many times I told you we gon’ be the shit, bitch?
How many times I told you we was still lit?
Don’t call my phone about no ho if she made it to my list, man (How many times?)