Doughboyz Cashout - Thousandair Lyrics

[HBK]
Doughboyz Cashout (4-1, you already know what it is)
What Up Chef (Whats happenin' baby) (Real street niggas)
My Park Street niggas (Been gettin' money) (Stand Up)
Write movies in this muthafucka

[HBK]
Smokin' fire with a bad bitch that look like Mya
Out of town with the weight, Ronnie Jackson the driver
Hit up Neiman's at Northland, and maybe stop and Godiva
She a lier if she say she say she ain't fuck me she admire
My Jewelry game pretty like Chadha Azure
Spark it up with anything, matches, candles, and lighters
Can't fuck with the stove, right now it's in motion
Pay whippin' the potion, the shit white as some lotion
Got her wet as the ocean, I'm swimmin' in it and strokin'
Now lil' nigga focused, cause we ridin' in this Focus
The bag in the trunk, Wa-lah, hocus pocus
All these bitches wanna know us, wanna fuck before we blow up
I put it on my chain she gon' suck me when I show up
Kush, baby roll up, Ciroc made her throw up
We never gave hope up, just give us the work
Money counters and scales, and we gon' have the streets sold up

[Hook: 4-1 Payroll]
I'mma thousandair, with a million dollar brain
A icy ass watch and a chunky ass chain
Pushin' whips through the slums
Blowin' kush, switchin' lanes
They like "How you got that chain?" (Bitch I got it off the cain')

I'mma thousandair, with a million dollar brain
A icy ass watch and a chunky ass chain
Pushin' whips through the slums
Blowin' kush, switchin' lanes
They like "How you got that chain?" (Bitch I got it off the cain')

[Chefman]
Got loud on deck, gettin' wasted like a patient
My eyes so low, got me lookin' like a Asian
Pockets on tilt nigga fuck being patient
Fuck around and get killed trynna plot up on my paper
My whole crew take of money makers and some killers
You fuckin' with Lions, Tigers, Bears, and Gorillas
Part street nigga, everybody got loot
We the 95' Bulls, everybody gon' shoot
Stacks in my Levis, whippin' straight drop pies
Man I'm in the kitchen cookin' chickens like Popeyes
Goose got me swervin, smokin' purple in my Burban'
Chef and them Cashout boys, that's for certain
Bowls of the Kush, I don't smoke the Reggie Bush
My big homie Jig told me "Nigga Push, Nigga Push!"
Heavy on the liquor, throwin' hundreds at the strippers
And every bad bitch need a Park Street nigga

[Hook]

[4-1 Payroll]
Lookin' through my Louie Frames, sittin' in the Coupe
Used to be a snotty nose nigga, sittin' on the stoop
My Re-up was small, I used to fit it in my shoe
Now my bag come from Cali, or I get it from a Jew
We the truth, in the club, sippin' Rosé til I puke
Blow my horn at yo bitch, now she blowin' on my flute
God forbid, if I ever get jammed, I'm goin' mute
I'm from the city where the hoes set you up and niggas shoot
O.G's put me up on game a long time ago
Told my jeweler "With my next chain, I'm gon' blind a ho"
Always in the streets makin' moves, I ain't got time for hoes
Wake yo bitch up in my suite like "Ho it's time to go"
4-1 raised me, custos paid me
Narcs on they job, so how the fuck I'm gon' be lazy
It's the D boy, the wrong shit could get you killed
But at the same time the wrong shit could get you that scrill

[Hook]