TFAB Tom MacDonald (Ft. Geek No Glasses)

[Verse 1: Tom MacDonald]
We arrive at the venue so faded, been wasted all day at the house
They knew we were coming so when we roll up they roll red carpets out
Anyone with a problem gets texted we're here, now we seen 'em duck out
We're twenty-five deep and we're not on the list but they give us a bottle of booze and a couch
Welcome to Beverly Hills where all of the bitches are badder
They wanna know how we all feel but fuck anybody who's asking
This is the come up, fuck your two cents dawg, I don't need your pennies
They're all tryna dodge us like they came with tennis
They're pourin' their 40's, we're spillin' our Henney
Yeah, bitches bust it open like a piggy bank
Married to the money, call it wedding cake
Smokin' on the hookah till the Swisher blown
All these B's in the trap selling honeycombs
(Turn up, turn up) turn up, what's love got to do with it? No Tina Turner
Shot, shot, shot, shots, Wolf in the club, I think he brought his burner
We in the cut and when we hit the crib then I got hoes in my mouth
I eat the pussy till that pussy rich, I don't pay for that shit I got gold in my mouth

[Pre-Chorus: Tom MacDonald]
Hey, it's your birthday
Hey, it's your birthday
Hey, grab your girlfriend and we can head to her place
Hey, it's your birthday
Hey, it's your birthday
And your booty means the world, make it earthquake