Lyrics:
black hellcat, batman with the wings up
Hi-tech in my cup, in my lap I got the nina
I keep it a buck, dirty bands make em cleaner
Funny how that bitch
I need the cake nigga
G-unit don't play
We rap but we strapped
Buck got the shotgun
50 got the mack
Spida got the streeper
And you bound
zombies
But my flow be lighting splifs
By the way I'm smoking that bomb-b!
Uncle Elroy voice
Money can get you anything you want
Without ain't a choice
If
they're still staring in my grill like dentures
I fuck with Brotha Lynch's and Andre Nickatina's
Tote forties, four-fours, tens, and even Nina's
I be
at home
I got money-loads by the barrels
I even got a few fans that's crazy like DeNiro
I'm international money-maker, player hater
Shake up for
on my body like melanin
We making money big benjamin
Baby eat it up don't play
She wanna roll up my spliffs
Baby girl i must be good to you
Cause girl you
always cause explosions
The banks of G, all CREAM downs a vet
Money feed good, opposites off the set
It ain't hard to see, my seeds need God-degree
I
a couple hundred G's
Fresh white tee 'bout to get my hustle on
I ain't goin' to the club till all my work gone
I'm leanin' on the leather and grippin'
by my side & your bitch by my side
It's a double date, got a crib with a gate
Somewhere by a lake
These niggas be these bitches be claiming the late
it was funny
It's a big world of bargains
It's a big world of bargains
It's a big world of bargains
And his service was a bargain for the money
to pray
Oh, mama got a visa
You mean to tell we goin' Um Ricka
Now they want me to grease-up
Be less African and get amnesia
Nah! Slumdog Million G's up
My
feed off of - keep it up
I'm relaxin' my feet is up - I'm leavin' you haters
Like when Shaq left the Lakers just to "Heat" it up
I state the stats
My phone is tappped and so is my living room
We can't hide the money here
We need a bigger room
My phone is tappped and so is my living room
trip
Make my own chips, I cop my own 6
I knock my own shit like I'm on my own dick
My days is short, need coke?
Raid the fort, don't knock by
Romain please
Extra salad, run me my broccoli please I like extra dip, extra dressing, extra nacho cheese
Extra celery sticks my money lumpy pockets
poetry man it's more then water
Swear these niggas be pussy I'm more then harder
Put that dick in that bitch you know Nina spoil her
Know that money comes
mother make ends meet
It's hard is god watchin'?
Non stop while the cops rolling by on my block
I see paper dancing in the street
So what's the chance
y trabaja esas cachas
Reservado en Pacha, street cha cha cha
My mouth speak, Big Ammo, like bazookas
Ballas my pain for the g´ s and the hookers
Para
(holla back) hey yo
[Verse 1:]
in the heart of a re-up, its sumthin like a g-up
M-C-A fingering that b-up or that c-up,
fiends creep up with
another day of workin
My boss is on my back and I'm about to go berserkin
Catch a fit money grip 'cause pumpin gas is a bitch way
Niggas be ridin by my job
my money, I think it's annoyin'
Pop me a Perc' (Perc') with a cup full of purp' (purp')
When I hop in the 'Vert with no key and I storm (skrrt)
BB
Pulling up drop top
Woah Yeah Uhh
She said she never been
With someone bringing Benjamin’s
Got a Table full of reefa
Bitches Knocking then bring 'em in
fund it from my personal stash
I'ma touch a hundred million by thirty-five (no doubts)
And next year I'm goin' platinum like thirty times (uh-huh)
[ INTRO ]
[ KM.G ]
Yo, what's happenin Cold 187
[ Cold 187um ]
Yo man, you know we just laid back in the studio
With the homie D.O.C. and Dr. Dre
[
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