Turnt Lyrics – Money Man & Moneybagg Yo

Turnt Lyrics latest song by Money Man & Moneybagg Yo. The lyrics were written by Tysen Jay Bolding and produced by Saucemankeys, Brytton Kerr, YellaNoTears, and 1Nuntodo

Turnt Song Details

Turnt Music

Turnt Lyrics

I put her diamonds because she the finest
I put her in Ricky, she holdin’ my blicky
AMG Wagon, it sit like a Tonka
Hang out the window, I’m holdin’ the chopper
My jeans Dior, but got Burberry boxers
Manicure Russian, her face was Korean
Money increasin’, it never depletin’
She was a hood b-tch, I showed her the ropes
Put her inPrada, she used to be broke
Trappin’ or robbin’, which one you gon’ pick?
When you from where I from, nigg*, good don’t exist
Townhouse, two levels, it got luxury amenities
I buy that b-tch with a made-up identity
Shoppin’ boutiques on the daily, splurgin’
I f*ck her good, now her toes curlin’
Japanese b-tch finna walk on my back
Did a show in the hood, I was clutchin’ my strap
She not my type, she not turnt up enough
Expensive b-tch, pay some hundred for lunch
Stack up them bricks and she rockin’ like six
She ’bout her business, she stay on her shit
Walk in Chanel, cop her two or three purses
Fuck it, right now, it’s a hundred for verses
Bottega trainers, she run to that mun-yun
On an opp day, ride around with a hundun
Racks in the pillow case, I do not need a safe
When you go strike, make sure they do not see your face
I up that whistle if I feel offended
He not really like that, he just be pretendin’
She not my type, she not turnt up enough
She not my type, she not turnt up enough
She ’bout her business, so I had to cuff
She from the hood, but I put her in Prada
She was a seven, but now she a model
Bottega trainers, I got her in trainin’
Run up that pape’, got accounts in the Caymans
Runnin’ my hood, they be worship and praisin’

She not my type, she ain’t turnt up enough
She not my type, she ain’t turnt up enough
Yeah, we f*cked, but I ain’t like her that much
That nigg* trash, they just hypin’ him up
Maybach truck outside, I’m scoopin’ her up
Muscle car, foreign car, which should I whip? (Go, go, go, go)
Get shot in your face, you lil’ nigg*s ain’t slick (Baow)
I raised this bank account, b-tch, I’m the shit (Speak)

I’m way too big for a skeleton Carti’
I talk too much shit, man, I had to go ‘Rari
Loaf boy, SG, nigg* can’t guard me
New strand ready and another finna harvest
Just takin’ off, but the show been started (Yeah)
Late, that’s the Wock’, got me pullin’ up tardy
I shitted on purpose, better not say sorry
The brand new foreign
Loyalty, I’m stayin’ down with my nigg*s (Loaf)
“Spoil me,” that’s what I hear from my b-tches (Both)
The chop that I got, it can’t fit in my britches
AR black and brown, this the Virgil edition
This year, almost spend ’bout a ticket on opps (One)
I’m tired of sprain’ these ho-ass nigg*s
The back of the Glock got a lil’ bitty box
You tap on the trigger, it let off a fifty
Hit it (Grrt), hit it (Grrt), hit it (Grrt), hit it (Grrt)
Who want the smoke? I don’t hear nothin’, crickets
Why nigg*s hate? I don’t know and don’t get it
I know what it is, they see competition
They know I’m a threat
Extra, doin’ too much
These nigg*s actors, but not like a movie ’cause they don’t get paid (Broke)
Not like a trick (No)
I’m an investor
Lift up your titties, move you out of state

She not my type, she ain’t turnt up enough
She not my type, she ain’t turnt up enough
Yeah, we f*cked, but I ain’t like her that much
That nigg* trash, they just hypin’ him up
Maybach truck outside, I’m scoopin’ her up
Muscle car, foreign car, which should I whip?
Get shot in your face, you lil’ nigg*s ain’t slick
I raised this bank account, b-tch, I’m the shit