More Money Pressa

[Chorus]
More money, more problems
Starboy, but no stardom
Same chart, but different column
Rollin' dice like a brother come from Harlem

[Verse 1]
I'm on the road, never home, I'm cookin' dope on the stove
'Member nights I was cold, now I can barely even wake up
Afterparty, afterparty, life feel like it's made up
Bitches got my D up, bitches with the C cup
Life ain't a surprise, yeah, I ain't scared to die, yeah
Brother turned to Muslim, greet him, "As-Salaam-Alaikum"
Bitches wanna play us, play me at Coachella
I used to sell drugs, a little farther down was Sega

[Chorus]
More money, more problems
Starboy, but no stardom
Same chart, but different column
Rollin' dice like a brother come from Harlem
More money, more problems
Starboy, but no stardom
Same chart, but different column
Rollin' dice like a brother come from Harlem