Count - Joey Fatts

Fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

My momma gon' wild out

She catch me trapping out her house

But now I’m fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

Started with an ounce

Now we got dough in large amounts

But now I’m fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

My momma gon' wild out

She catch me trapping out her house

But now I’m fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

Started with an ounce

Now we got dough in large amounts

Outchea' tryna' get it bitch, my momma getting old

Way before I went to school I learned to work the stove

By the time I turned sixteen my whip game was cold

Counting fifty thousand then Tony with them zones

Trapping out the house, fucking on these hoes

They love to run their mouth, you gotta' stay away from those

Watch out for them niggas hating, calling you they bro

Plotting on your dough, on the low them niggas foes

I’m fucking up the, fucking up the, fucking up the count

Bitch I’m a hustler niggas rarely see me drought

Bricks in the attic, Ks in the couch

All we talk is money so they know what we about

If they coming for me then we chopping niggas out

Getting over on me that’s some shit I highly doubt

Pulling off the lot in some shit I can’t pronounce

You niggas call it flexing I’m just fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

My momma gon' wild out

She catch me trapping out her house

But now I’m fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

Started with an ounce

Now we got dough in large amounts

But now I’m fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

My momma gon' wild out

She catch me trapping out her house

But now I’m fucking up the count

Fucking up the count

Started with an ounce

Now we got dough in large amounts