Three In One Curren$y (Ft. T.Y.)

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
In the villa, bitches with him
One chillin', one in the kitchen, pots whippin'
Cops sniffin', must be kiddin', stop trippin'
The dogs didn't get the scent it was in the lyrics
That's how I hit it, pulled up in it, three piece rimmed it
Straight shitted, they was mad, said it was rented
Them hateful niggas should congratulate a player
And ask him, how he did it
So then they could get it
But instead rather talk down on the bread
Fuck 'em, dog, and keep stuntin', that's how I play it
See how I slid, safe home plate, I broke your bitch
We spent your grip, furnished my other place
Dog, you should see it
Hope mama never slip
And say my name while she sleepin', next to this lame
Clue him in to our hustle, we fleeced him
She spent it all on a boss and I ain't even need it
I had her buyin' Gucci pieces for my youngest nieces
Bitch, keep your secrets

[Hook: Curren$y]
Three bitches in that black Bentley
Three bitches in that black Bentley
Three bitches in that black Bentley
I send hits, it's done quickly
Three bitches in that black Bentley
Three bitches in that black Bentley
Three bitches in that black Bentley
I send for 'em, they come to get me