This is a song about "Hittin bills"

It's moe, all i need is more chips

Belly full of paper bills

Realest nigga told you that, chloe love me more than rap

Think you're hittin harder but your shit is just a bitch slap

When i die tell them to turn my coffin to stretch benz

They're slittin' their wrists, missiles hit, hittin' the picket fence,

Nowadays usually it's his pockets

I have mad skills, i have stacked up mad bills.

Many disasters with any bills what matters

Baby told me that she never memorized a verse

Hittin' prime time like channel 5 specials

We race foreign cars, custom models

But put it in slow-mo, i don't want to bust the tape yet, press play

Hittin it twice for the listeners an get em to say

I'm an automatic spittin bullets hittin the listener

Pray for peace with the babies, they a beast in the summer