Lyrics:
at ya
This ain't what you want lil' dawg, this shit bad
Fresh out the box, streets on lock, that money flowin'
Fuckin' with this lil' bitch out
no money
I remember bein' fucked up, nights I go hungry
Since I ain't had nothin' to eat
Had to bleed the streets to feed the beast
And it can go
get better
[Chorus]
[Lil Wayne]
Here I come star rapper
I get the fast money
Short cute hot boy
And rap for cash money
Stand out
and my li'l dog money
Thank god for that brown paper bag that
Brown paper bag (thank god for that)
Brown paper bag (c'mon)
Brown paper bag (thank god
Powder on my clothes
Always in the kitchen with pots on the stove
By next summer I will have a Range Rover
My money, it grows and it grows and it
myself
So I, I splurge a lil' hell
You see the money and the
The cars and diamonds and you
You think it make me but it really don't (it really really
We, we don't give a fuck about you
Your homey on the block can get it too
Y'all lil' motherfuckers ain't gang-ster, save your
Crew, before I put
I'm there
You won't get none of this money
But these hot shells I share
And I live by them houses
That's right by them mountains
I just caught that lick
Letting me in her twat (Lil' thotty, thotty)
Yeah, lil' thotty done fell in love
Lighting that shit up
(Lil' thotty, lil' thotty)
I told my money to do one
don't care, I paint the town red (walk on by)
Mm, she the devil
She a bad lil' bitch, she a rebel (walk on by)
She put her foot to the pedal
It'll take
myself
So I, I splurge a lil' hell
You see the money and the
The cars and diamonds and you
You think it make me but it really don't (it really really
(Bangladesh)
Young Money
Ya dig?
Yeah
Mack, I'm goin' in
A millionaire, I'm a Young Money millionaire
Tougher than Nigerian hair
My criteria
at their heads, like hair in a comb
Sittin' by the window, I just stare at the storm
Know I'll make it through it like hair in a comb
Young Money over
days
Mind on my money, money on the state
Can't judge a book by its cover turn the page
I like her on the pole that's her business nigga
As soon
up the money, then count up the commas
And go get the money lil' bitch (Money, lil' bitch)
Hundred round drum on the Glock
If he play with the crew,
on the bus stop
Dropped a line or two, and he had the hoe
At that type of shit he's a pro
So Jack and Jill ran up the hill to catch a lil' nap
Dumb bitch, gave
Yeah
Cut it up, gimme a light
Yeah, and by the way, nigga
It's Young Mula
First Lady
Uh, yo, yo
Let us begin with a bad lil' specimen
give a fuck about you this ain't beef
You live a basic ass life live my shit in HD
Feel like Tyrese when I'm countin' money waist deep
Thinkin all facts
Yeah (yeah)
I'm reloaded (I'm reloaded)
Yeah (yeah)
Yeah, I been countin' money so long it make my hands ache
Yeah, hundred round in the trunk,
days
Mind on my money, money on the state
Can't judge a book by its cover turn the page
I like her on the pole that's her business nigga
As soon
I woke up on Fox, found myself starring on Cops
Got chased by squad cars and cameras for two blocks
I hate the man, yeah, I ran
To HBO and stole
And take any nigga in the click to the Super Bowl
And party like it ain't nothin
But most of my homies they done died over drug money
Like Bizzy Bob
by
Love don't Love nobody, cant trust nobody for the right amount of money they'll turn
Roll up in a Rover hop out With the Shits
Whole city know me
Lil Wayne:
I ain't terrified from nuthin'
I'm young wild crazy and disgustin'
Better watch me 'cause I'm coming
With a oven by my stomach
I'm
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