Lyrics:
pushing cause her pussy dry (21)
I'm slaughter gang bitch your hair smell like old fries (bitch)
In my pocket I got none but them old guys (lil' bitch)
our style was let them piled in, we robbin 'em
Money dudes, make 'em come up out they shoes
Run they jewels, word is bond, while my man Nino gone
ah hung ova
Big money big
Big money big casket size
Fore mi touch the grave
You know me have fi sign
Real money real appetite
Boy ah kill mi cousin me
joints and dirty shirts
Sit around the campfire and talk
About the old days
We used to waste our money on
Brand names and gold chains
Yeah, let's do it
mean all I want for lunch, is a blunt, and your girl
It ain't nothin' to me but it's somethin' to you
Count money like it's somethin' to do
Summer
The Indiana wind
Is a melancholy friend
It'll blow 'til end
'Til your old bones bend
Mmmhmm
Honey, do the math
There's an awful lot of past
And when
Ogbe
Sambalitual Iyoooo
Omofela Dey here so so so ah
Just money on my mind
Rollz
Flash back to the old time
In the streets where we started grinding
know that I faked it
And lately I'm getting too drunk at the same old club
So I'm livin' my life on a budget, tryna find love
But I don't want a lover
guess we gon see
Get that money
Yeah baby get that money
Get that money
Yeah baby get that money
I'm gettin money you niggas mumble that cheap talk
of a Pittsburgh Steeler,
Black nigga, draped in gold with a nine milla,
Love money, love jail, love that penitentiary mail,
Love the way these niggas smell, keep
old school on them 22's
Why that's with the drop top you know how she do
She got that gangsta love, I can't get enough
When we hit the club she be
our style was let them piled in, we robbin 'em
Money dudes, make 'em come up out they shoes
Run they jewels, word is bond, while my man Nino gone
better than this
Since I was born it's the same old gees
With the same old scheme
It's the same old thieves
Since independence it's the same old things
thok chaiyo foreign
Money talk, Money callin'
Yeah! Dami cha drip, I got the wave
Mai ho Ocean
I see the hate in your face
I keep on rollin'
Sath ma cha
An Accountant? Let Me Think About It
Money Talks My Money’s Shouting The Loudest
It’s Just The Same Old Thing
Same Old Thing
Just The Same Old Thing
Ain’t Nothing
opened the wardrobe
Pulled out some jeans and a T-shirt that seemed clean
Topped it off with a pair of old shoes
That were ripped around the seams
to take my chips I want to take you on trips
So you can help me get my won
Go ahead try it for me here's the story of my money
I'm the owner and I do
eyes my sweet
I know a single mother who loses
Her mind
On weekends
She pleads with lady luck on scratch
Cards with money lent to her
By old friends
I
I've got a love that comes in colors.
I got a voice, comes in screaming.
My old clothes they don't fit me now-ow-ow.
When I was young, I took
I got these hotties, hotties
We getting naughty
Yea we drinking Bacardi, Bacardi
We getting drowsy
These bitches want my money, money
So, I pushed
42nd street terminal
Yo, yo, I live it and I speak it
My religion is reefer
Big money and the most
Uninhibited freak to sleep with
My visions are
up and that's 4life
The fast life we want it
I wanna drown in money
Chel bad mind let's get money
We up and that's 4life
The fast life we want it
I
roam like a phone in the unknown zone
And we condone a tone a money hoes and clothes
And my record sell like a boat load
Fam you couldn't fill my shoes
the money and the hoes
Just gimme a couple of o's, drop me off at the sto'
And I'm straight, hey shorty I'm straight
Hey you can keep the dancers
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