
Stop Calling MadeinTYO (Ft. Key Glock & Tay Money)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Stop Calling" by MadeinTYO (Ft. Key Glock & Tay Money). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.

[Chorus: MadeinTYO]
Ooh, I'm gettin' top (Ooh)
Why you think a nigga like me ain't never stop? (Wam, wam, wam)
Why you cheating, girl? Phone on lock (Skrrt, yeah)
Overseas with a foreign bop (Ooh)
Ooh, I'm gettin' top (Skrrt)
Why you think a nigga like me ain't never stop? (Wam, wam, wam)
Why you cheating, girl? Phone on lock (Oh)
Overseas, yeah, with a foreign bop (Skrrt)
[Verse 1: MadeinTYO]
I'm makin' money (Yeah)
Laughin' to the bank, ain't nothin' funny (Racks, racks, racks)
Ooh, pockets on Big Boi (Ooh)
Move smooth, yeah, feel like Leeroy (Yeah, yeah)
Gettin' to that bread feel like a D-boy (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Put you on your head, feel like a B-boy (Skrrt, skrrt)
Ooh, yeah, that's a fact
Booty hang on thighs, ass fat (Wam, wam, wam, ooh)
[Verse 2: Key Glock]
Hello? Bitch, where you at? Huh (Where you at, bitch?)
I need, I need, I need some of that (The top, bitch)
And I'm tryna hit it from the back (From the back, bitch)
Hit it, hit it, hit it like I can't (No more, bitch)
Money calling, who is that? (Hold up, I got racks)
Uh, racks on my line and in my pants (Goddamn)
Uh, now I gotta get more rubber bands (Get more rubber bands, damn)
Fuck this shit in my fitted, word to Cam (Get to fuckin')
Because...
Ooh, I'm gettin' top (Ooh)
Why you think a nigga like me ain't never stop? (Wam, wam, wam)
Why you cheating, girl? Phone on lock (Skrrt, yeah)
Overseas with a foreign bop (Ooh)
Ooh, I'm gettin' top (Skrrt)
Why you think a nigga like me ain't never stop? (Wam, wam, wam)
Why you cheating, girl? Phone on lock (Oh)
Overseas, yeah, with a foreign bop (Skrrt)
[Verse 1: MadeinTYO]
I'm makin' money (Yeah)
Laughin' to the bank, ain't nothin' funny (Racks, racks, racks)
Ooh, pockets on Big Boi (Ooh)
Move smooth, yeah, feel like Leeroy (Yeah, yeah)
Gettin' to that bread feel like a D-boy (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Put you on your head, feel like a B-boy (Skrrt, skrrt)
Ooh, yeah, that's a fact
Booty hang on thighs, ass fat (Wam, wam, wam, ooh)
[Verse 2: Key Glock]
Hello? Bitch, where you at? Huh (Where you at, bitch?)
I need, I need, I need some of that (The top, bitch)
And I'm tryna hit it from the back (From the back, bitch)
Hit it, hit it, hit it like I can't (No more, bitch)
Money calling, who is that? (Hold up, I got racks)
Uh, racks on my line and in my pants (Goddamn)
Uh, now I gotta get more rubber bands (Get more rubber bands, damn)
Fuck this shit in my fitted, word to Cam (Get to fuckin')
Because...
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