On Me Internet Money (Ft. Destroy Lonely)

[Intro]
(Perfect)
Don't ask how much I made, it's on me (Bitch, it's on me, oh, yeah, oh, yeah)
Don't ask how much I made, it's— (I keep it on me, oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah)
Don't ask how much I made, it's on me (Bitch, it's on me, oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah)
Don't ask how much I made, it's— (Oh, yeah, oh, yeah)

[Chorus]
This shit took a long time, had to stay down
My boy outside with that stick with a hundred round on it
Pop out, don't make a sound, yeah
Pick a dead opp out the ground, yeah
And my bitch got a real deal ass on her
Told them fuck boys I don't play like Sony
Put a fuck nigga on a plate 'cause I'm hungry
Don't ask how much I made, it's on me

[Verse 1]
Yeah, yeah, don't ask how much I made, it's on me (Let's go)
These niggas so damn fake and phony
Damn, I'm with your bae, she on me
On the top floor, chilling with Lonely
Bitch, I get on and put on all my homies
Bought designer shit for a check, put it on me
If you think I would switch for a check, you don't know me