Lyrics:
death
why'all been all happy-go-lucky, bunch of sambos
Call me "God's Son", with my pants low
I don't die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo
This
they feelings
I got advice from my father, all he told me was this
Niggas, get off your ass if you plan to be rich
There's ten rules to the game, but
My bitch throwing fits she know I been out getting rich
Smoking out the pack yeah I can't feel my lungs
I been counting racks yeah I do this for my son
a head, but ain't no screws in it (yeah, strictly representin')
(money, money, money by the ton) one motherfucker, two motherfucker
(I got a head, but
clever lyricist
Hi-see the pearl rabbit never fear a bitch
K and D from 2nd II None my homies from elementary
To the new century
Well, I guess by
fish
Workaholic, alcoholic, just wanna be fucking rich
My mission in life is to be wealthy
And healthy of course
Cos I aint quite ready
To leave this
This life is really a game
And to win you must be rich
Nobody is really in pain
We all just broke bro that's it
Even an only son is not a good son if
lucky)
Funny watchin' two niggas beef that could hardly fight
Like Soulja Boy gettin' pepper sprayed by Charleston White
Can't forget about the Super
full rappin'
I put on my brothers, I put on my bitch
Had to wear the dress, 'cause I had a stick
You know where the bag at? Tell me where it is
I
Ty wasn't a shooter, that nigga just sold bricks
And Tony he was reckless he never had no picks
Tony was like the Alpo, Ty was the Lil Rich
Two
of a straight killa
Raised by a strong woman, I'll ride for my homies
So, can a nigga get a boooonnnd
Or do another nigga have to come along and raise my
slangers
We just entertainers don't point your finger ya
I'd rather be rich than be broke and famous..
Because my money get jealous
[verse 2]
Listen, see I
Now you can't tell me nothing i'm just tryna get my son rich
Hit the blunt then krama come
She hit me back
The blunt hit
Fuck them type of niggas
Only
problems
Imma take rich nigga problems
Rich nigga problems
Workin man, workin man
I see you workin man
Damn
This shit ain't workin man
Gave my whole day
Ayy, trust fund, trust fund, trust fund
I get my money by lump sums
I get the check and I go dumb (go dumb)
Rackin' up money, got three sons
Money is my b****
Ohhh money, money, money, love her cause she keep a n**** rich
Ohhh money you my honey, but I think she got me p**** whipped
My
keep our palace, nigga
Yeah, word up, yeah, yeah, yeah, turn me up, son
Yo, Ross, what up, my nigga? Aiyo, aiyo
Word to the gold Panamaras,
on my neck
Two things that I need, get the pros and the check
Twelve goin' knock down the front, but we was jugging in the back
Can't have no fun up in
Cause i believe i can fly - i
KNOW THE LEDGE NIGGA I'm SO HIGH
Stand back bitch - u stealing my wifi
Get rich or try and gwan die
Killuminati got beef
It's my fuckin word, Sticky, man
Yo what's up nigga?
Muthafuckas wetted everything out there
What the fuck you talkin about?
Muthafuckas is dead, son
trying to tear me down
Stacking up cream gotta dairy lounge/ Never see no cows but be up like owls
In and out the doors like a public house/ 2pac my
cream
By every September 14th, that's my dream
So I can be more clean, as I grow yearly
I can see things more clearly, that's why they fear me
Let's
levels to get this shit
I've been through hell and back, no cap, it boost my confidence
Since a kid all I had was rich dreams
Rich dreams, rich dreams,
dues
I'ma sick son of a gun who states my views
And ain't fuckin' with bots and no mainstream news
Green, mean, pristine, outta control
Straight
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