Mo Paper Lyrics - Rich The Kid

[Intro: Rich the Kid] 

Yeah, you know what I'm sayin'? 

Can't never switch, huh 

Ooh, ayy, any, huh 

[Chorus: Rich the Kid] 

You ain't a boss you can't touch her 

I might just paint the Bentley mustard 

I got rich, that's on my mother 

Say she love you, still can't trust her 

Cut the pork, drop the top, then I Speed Race it 

But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby 

Why your boyfriend a lame? I got mo' paper 

Bring the money out now, I got mo' haters 

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[Verse 1: Rich the Kid] 

Where my stash box? Bring the racks out 

Watch your bad bop (Bad) 

I blew that cash out (Cash, what) 

Yah, ayy, ran my money up 

Now I got mo' haters (I got mo' papers) 

Bitches wanna fuck 'cause I got mo' papers 

Now I Speed Race, I want more face 

My bitch bake the cake, I might slide the Wraith 

Hermès links, check the slink 

Chanel when she blink, she want that 'Rari pink (Skrrt, skrrt) 

[Chorus: Rich the Kid] 

You ain't a boss you can't touch her 

I might just paint the Bentley mustard 

I got rich, that's on my mother 

Say she love you, still can't trust her 

Cut the pork, drop the top, then I Speed Race it 

But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby 

Why your boyfriend a lame? I got mo' paper 

Bring the money out now, I got mo' haters 

Photos 

[Verse 2: YG] 

I need the bag fast, fast, fast, fast (Fast) 

Pulled up, Lambo, niggas mad, mad, mad, mad (Niggas mad) 

Saint Laurent, hard bottoms, splash, splash, splash (Splash) 

You might slip on a drip, you might need the cash 

I painted my 6-4 red, a lot of my homies dead 

Some of my homies Blue, a lot of my homies Red 

On Bloods, I need that head, I'm tryin' to feel it in my legs 

I'm trying to spend a little bread, fuck it up at Sakks, yeah 

All my bitches drive Benz, I'll put you in a Benz 

All my hoes conniving, they finesse them M's 

Rich nigga slide in, oh yeah, yeah she did 

Before you fuck me, give that pussy a cleanse, yeah 

[Chorus: Rich the Kid] 

You ain't a boss you can't touch her 

I might just paint the Bentley mustard 

I got rich, that's on my mother 

Say she love you, still can't trust her 

Cut the pork, drop the top, then I Speed Race it 

But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby 

Why your boyfriend a lame? I got mo' paper 

Bring the money out now, I got mo' haters