Lyrics:
a dooley
Know im gettin them racks it ain't no need to do me
Tell by ya rap that ya trap ain't nun
Tell by ya h** that ya ain't gettin money
Why ya in
of New York,->[Charlie Chaplin]....(pause)
I shine bright like city lights in Manhattan
[Ya] gettin bit by my deadly pet Komodo Dragon
Getting hit with my
get money
I can get money doin' anything
I got them bricks 4 the high
And the purp by the pound
I'm posted on the block till the sun go down, down
Holdin' on to this money mane I gotta get it
Choppers and a Glock 40 play with me you get ya issue
Wrap ya dick up 'cause ya dick will have the hiccups
Gettin' richer and richer, the police took my picture
But I still supplied, some people I knew died
Murders and homicides for bottles of suicide
Money
Gettin' richer and richer, the police took my picture
But I still supplied, some people I knew died
Murders and homicides for bottles of suicide
Money
who's back to personify money, power, and bitches
But when bitches been gettin money, that when shit get ridiculous
I'm hittin switches like six fo's,
(take money)
Verse One: 2Pac
First off, touch your chick and the clique you claim
Westside when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be
wit my boys dealin' dope gettin' high
Crackers tryin' to give me time, and we ain't talkin' 5
Niggas talk fly so that pistol by my side
My baby
niggas some coots
Yeen gettin' money, just tell em da truth
Yeen got da sauce or a splash of da juice
Da money keep callin', just know I'm en route
These
and get hung by a rope (hey)
We got the weed and the dog and the coke (dog)
Niggas weren't there we was robbin' the North (robbed)
Pistol P bless his
a symphony composed of killers and armed forces
Livin for whatever it cost's, crimb bosses
It's goin down by the year 2 G
I'm goin be flyin through
Gettin' dumb money, gettin' Dumb blunted
I keep a different sauce yea Shit's straight humus
Wave runna's for them 3-1-2 Numbers
Seen it all so it
a teen
Now he doing life, just for tryna eat mane that ain't right
Money tight, but he learned his lesson let him come outside
Political ties get you
So we finna blow up like combustion
All my niggas finna be up
No discussion
See, that pussy gettin' beat up
No concussion
Hit it like a drive by
I die
else by me mane
I tell em float on and go on to the ozone
Im so gone, my blunt like a pole long
I prolong, and hold on
To it like a trombone, I'm so
have a green time
Get money, get lifted
Get money, get lifted
Get money, get lifted
It's all about tha green
And gettin bitches
Get money, get lifted
got dat)
Money (I got dat)
Cars (I got dat)
Pistol (I got dat)
Niggaz (Get shot at)
[Verse 2:]
I know you heard to me that beef ain't nothin but a word
a nigga by his collar
Pistol to his head
When I pull the trigger
Bet a dollar that tricks dead
Dead on arrival wit' his weak boy at the club
Trying to fuck
theirs
That shit is gettin' funky and them fools want to bust caps
But motherfucker ain't no money in that
You need to lose that strap and go from
Man I thought he was a burglar
I'm gettin' off 'cause I served her
You wastin' that broad with
That shit they want
More money than any dope man could
Verse 1 (Soulja Boy)
I?m Easily rippin defensively grippin my pistol ya
niggaz play tough but don?
t want it um poppin and cocking and locking game 2
(It's Leaf on the beat)
What you doin'? (What you doin'?)
Gettin' money (Gettin' money) pink fifties
(Pink fifties)
Blue hundreds (Blue hundreds)
never hesitate to pull the pistol out
I always got the problem solver with me
Makin' money over here makin' money there
Seein' places you could never
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