Tint (feat. Mc Kresha & Lyrical Son)

(Whoop, whoop, whoop)
(Press Play)

Give me your number, did you lose your mind?
Or is it better to just be all in? (Uh)
Baby, come roll with me, what do you need the trend for?
I’m your baby, what do you need a name for?
Chanea-nea, e neja ney-ney
All eyes on me like it’s my birthday
Oh, hey, hungry? Just ate
Wastin' no time (yuh), [got the okay?]
Got my kicks laced, they’re fresh in this double R
I wanna sip, but there’s no joint in this fucking bar
I be gettin' high, gettin' money, I'm a fucking star
I been messin' bitches up, bi'
Got the driver waitin' at the door
(Pull up in a black Panamera)
You want me like I’m worth more than before
Don’t compare me to others
TINT, best of the best
Hot girl sauce, [with a?] kill many men
Drinkin' and chillin', but you can’t catch me
I’m bad and they’re all just lame

Swag comes with a price
Nothing comes for free
The top is cold
We’re heated with cash
Get money, get money
Enough money, please
Baklava from the Balkans
Got money, got money

Just wait a sec, let’s start it over, I’ll go acapella
My big ego makes me take over like a Rockefeller
Same rhythm, no fever for this storyteller
Take a breather, let’s read a book, educate yourself better
First part, three chapters, I came, I saw, I took titles
Dreamer in the zone, making hits, paycheck’s a joke
Realest shit I ever wrote
Gettin' money was a hobby, rap messed up my friendships
I’m not a parachute on the ground, I give the bank credit
I know some tough guys who’ll put you in a cast at the ortho
You’re like therapy to me, but you got beef in the background
Homie, don’t fake it, you got no reason, not in front of me, my friend
Can’t go back, don’t wanna race with you
Oh buddy, swear on my eyes, you think I’m blind, can’t see you (huh)
I don’t see anything in you, don’t get cocky, or I’ll knock you out (hah)
There’s one truth among two lies, they come to bite

Get money, get money
Enough money, please
Baklava from the Balkans
Got money, got money

Uh, spicy, I’m one of a kind, every year I’m repeating
For the meat, I’ll cut your ear, these [sumëlleqe?] are whispering
Explicit, oh the text, the cop says: I don’t walk with police
Whoever supported me, give support, just in the middle, give me a hand
Definitely, from dedication, dedication, I’m deadly with this
Elevating, hands up, I want everyone to sing with lips
Revelation, tell people tomorrow’s the apocalypse
Internet, not making connections, all in all, plant it, fuck the mics
If you’re down for us, in this generation, let it flow
Add verses while you play the tease, brain in a bag, keep it cool
I can for me, you broken whore, I’m superstitious, shoot precise
Durex m'lume [?], don’t [sumë?] me, I’m scared, I’m all tongue
Aesthetically, statistically, I don’t know your existence at all
A laid-back karate guy on the couch, smoking some cannabis
There are stars that have no voice, no money, let alone style
The scene depends on PRs, to be more in

Swag comes with a price
Nothing comes for free
The top is cold
We’re heated with cash
Get money, get money
Enough money, please
Baklava from the Balkans
Got money, got money
Get money, get money (k-kill many men)
Enough money, please (k-kill many men)
Baklava from the Balkans (k-kill many men)
Got money, got money (k-kill many men)

Got money, got money
Baklava from the Balkans
Enough money, please
Baklava from the Balkans