365 E

Three, six, Fuck. Bro, Z. Five, three sixty-five days. Tryna get paid three sixty-five ways. Money. Still tryna get this bread, Yeah. Can't be arsed with a talking stage. You know I can't. Still tryna get this bread, Yeah. Need new ways to make me a wage. New ways. If I ever wrote how my day Is going. Every day tryna get my rank up Like I'm playing Hearthstone. You Remember those old school days, put in work To get them kicks. I had to grind. This girl tryna chat about me, she on that Bonnie Blue type shit. Nasty. Tryna keep myself to myself, tryna keep Myself out the mix, yo. Three, six, five, five, five, five, Five, five. Three sixty-five. Money, money, yeah, money, money. You know I can't, you know I can't, You know I can't. New ways. New ways, new ways. Tryna get paid three sixty-five ways. So I slide to my bro Z. Still carve out time for my girl, no lies, So I ain't stressing like Pavel Durov. Nah. If I wrote down how my day really Goes, those words would leave your brain sore. That's why I throw it on a beat, high-pitch Cowbell vibes, all the way to the core. My girl knows how to act right, but she Still ain't no Megan Fox. Three sixty-five days, tryna get paid three Sixty-five ways. Still tryna get this bread, yeah. Couldn't be arsed with a talking stage. You know I can't. Still tryna get this bread, Still tryna get this bread, yeah. Need new ways to make me a wage. New ways. If I ever wrote how my day Is going, going, going, going.