Lyrics:
stack two floors that loaf
I be floor seats by that coach
I be fight seats by that rope
Make me so sick I could vomit
Gin with no tonic
Cheat on my
nigga
Bout to put that motherfucker in a tint shop, ooh
Monica, come home to me, yea come home to me my dear
Make a little money, leave a little
hard dick and plenty money to shop
Take it off,
Come on and dance with me baby
Take it off,
There ain't nobody who can fade me
Take it off,
said, hey yo sonny first of all gimme my money
Some much money we gettin' it ain't even funny
Little corny niggas be tryin' take my money from me
When in
You know my sneakers foreign nigga (Juheard!)
Yeah, bigger than life
Cookin' up
Big money poppin' boy
Cookin' up
Cookin' up
They talking bout me in
the mountain
Real niggas don't cry but inside me like a fountain
I been through the struggles no pocket money allowance
Threw a penny in the wishing well
gonna go through the fire
Never expire, give it the way that they want it
They'll front on you if you tired (what about)
Money you tell me what's money
And I'm still by myself all alone
Don't need nobody's bitch in my zone
King shit sit on my throne
Money moves all year long
Thinking bout you every song
(Skit: Partlow) go by them slow
Yeah ay
Yeah big JT shit uh
Ay kofi Kay on this, are you mad?
I hit the stu and I’m tapped in
I told these niggas
the cat?
She got ghetto ways, plus she pays, give me my money
Why must I chase the cat?
You see ain't nothin' changed but the game, pimpin' ain't easy
Bein'
my burk
Cause the money keep callin
And niggas can't wait till I'm buried in dirt
And my OG he told me that niggas gon hate when you making it work
Yeah
Street life
Yah
Funny bout my money And me stop make joke with anybody
I wanna live and I don't want to die young
Dirty bad mind you better
Yeah
Street life
Yah
Funny bout my money and me stop make joke with anybody
I wanna live and I don't want to die young
Dirty bad mind you better
like aint got time
Aint got no limit, had to leave that lean alone before my time ended all about my money nigga
If you aint bout the money like T I P
dry
I'm doing me I'm bout that 9th letter nigga "I"
Silence of the grams hustle on the low
She naked on the pole money on the flo'
I'm bout to hit
rock at the show, yeah, servin' the bags for the low, yeah
My money long like Pinocchio's nose, fuck nigga playin', I'm upping the sco, yeah
Me and JT
See, I didnt ask to be here but im here... so its gots to be
A reason for me breathin in this air
But aint no guarantee
I could live to see tomorrow,
get my cash like right now
Having money conversations I remember when I was down
They wanna know the price
Don’t have to ask me twice
Tell em we high
I chill at home I pass on clubs
Trying to get this money right my dollar bills not looking right
It's just enough to make it by but damn I'm trying
on, hold on, hold on
This song right here it's my nigga Currency The Hot Spitter (that's right)
Heard me? First artist off of Young Money Cash Money
it by the onion
I'm stacking diamonds like it's money
But y'all niggas bugging
And niggas know I came straight up out the freezer then they threw me
Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by, water flowing underground
Into the blue again after the money's gone
Once in
my raps
She like my rhymes
She like my drills
She like my pills
Like brodie had sent me the beat and I'm clean on it
If it's bout money then you
and the drip, when you see me they like goddamn (goddamn)
Huh, they gon' call a nigga well man say that
Huh, you ain't 'bout your money, nigga say that
Huh,
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