Lyrics S.Dot – Cash App | New Today Lyrics

Glizzy, whatchu’ cookin’ up?

(Woo!) x3
(Eskedit!) x3
(Dotarachi!) x3

(Look), call me Dot-a-rachi!

Verse

Call me Dotarachi
That man back!
Extended, it look like a pair of ?!
When we in your venue, I need my deposit, no talkin’
They gon’ have to pay a check
My shawty, he on it, he drillin’, lil’ bro do the most
But I swear he be sayin’ less
Boot up I’m in ?, no Xanax
Foreign car beat when it bagbak

Roll up, the opps get it
Boy you ain’t smokin’ no loud
That’s a bad batch
I get some top, I ain’t smash that
Can’t fuck on that bitch, got a bad back
Don’t fuck with these rappers, it’s only my bruddas
Have four snatch yo chain, make you bagbak
Glizzy got chrome in the ?
Just caught a play off the Cash App (Gang)

We standin on business
Sprint a van, I packed it up with the killas
Cut a thot off, she was up in her feelin’s
Get some choppa then I’m up and I finish
(Aye), snatch a nigga pendant
In the trenches, tryna catch a nigga in it
Where ya’ cut it, then I bag it in a minute
Gotta drop, ‘cuz they been begging for a minute

(Look), a nigga dropped a bag on my head
Well go get ya money back
All of these fuck niggas on some fed shit
They don’t know the facts
Draco, Draco, tote that motherfucker wit’ a shoulder strap
Fuck around wit’ the lean and the perkys
I overslept
Grinding hard, it wasn’t shit overnight
Pack in, it got sent on a flight
In ?-live, I got in wit’ my pipe
Nigga tweak, then we end ’em to’nite

(Then we end ’em tonight)
(Look)
(Then we end ’em tonight)

Know wassup when you come to my city
Tryna get these bands
Tweakin’ wit’ the fans
On my Instagram goin’ live wit’ me
Don’t play crazy
Got ‘dem forty-fives wit’ me
In here ‘hunnit deep, throwin’ B’s
They like, “He ain’t slime, is he?”
“Why you talkin’ money? He don’t have any.”
Pack touch, i’ma sell it tomorrow
Can’t tuck this, that fan is too large
I had to relax on the pills
I’m bossin’, I’m sweatin’ too hard

Outro

Trap spot do a lotta numbers
So you know it’s busy
Whole lotta free smoke
I jus’ bought another glizzy
Call the gang and pack the sprinter up
We hit another city
And I love to fuck a check up
It wasn’t nothin’ really

(Count up, gang) x3