Lyrics:
won't stop rappin, I don't stop rappin
I make too much money bitch I can't stop rappin
I live the fast life of a MC
and I sell a lot of records makin
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy
(Hit-Boy)
Ayy, this that Clipse sample, ayy (G.Ry got me)
Fuck that talkin', let the clip slam 'em
Yellow bands
nigga
Bout to put that motherfucker in a tint shop, ooh
Monica, come home to me, yea come home to me my dear
Make a little money, leave a little
fresher than a tux from Armani, nigga
Eating that Cipriani, spending money like Gotti
Pull out my cold watch, Swiss edition, Rio collection, I'm out
Let
of headphones on to block out traffic going by
Forty back to make music all night
With a pair of headphones on to block out my life
Open mic nights, let the spit
talk a lot
That's why they call the cops
I hustled on and off the block but never off the rock
Buck an opportunity right at the corner shop
He couldn't
That boy gon' get the girls man, he gon' make 'em all soothe
In a bubble bath in the jacuzzi, might pull a yellow bone floozie
That boy don't
her man
You need a keys to a Beamer
Like I'm Beenie Man
You see me man, I'm a handsome boy
I make a brawl on my car lot dance it more
I be glances
and leave her man
You need a keys to a Beamer
Like I'm Beenie Man
You see me man, I'm a handsome boy
I make a brawl on my car lot dance it more
I be glances
gon' set up shop
Set up shop wherever
I could teach you how to make it shake
She ain't even wanna do dinner 'fore
She give up her cake (Let's go)
I
grinding, I love the money
I got all my money, to make em say you dummy
Got it have it right
When ya come to the store
I got Xan bars and X', I got lean
said it by mistake
My t-shirts make more money than your mixtape
I tell a boy Boy Better
Know it’s money making season
I book a flight to New York for no
that codeine
Take a sip of morphine
Make your eyes go ZZZ
You know what I mean
Getting money by any means
Getting paper without limit for my self-esteem
Just let us rock, you!
Got waterbed sets in my limousine
And everytime I'm seen I got to be clean
I tour around the world, to make the people dance
the doofus
Shop-keep running had a lot to do
He had to clean the tanks
He had to feed the zoo
Fishes and spiders and ferrets and parrots
The turtles
on
Let the cries out
Wave a whole chicken by his
Legs near the crotch smells
Sweating bullets in the tip
Blow torching his flesh
I seen his face melt
Drip
the coast
You shop at PetSmart but don't realize your pet's smarter than you and I've been getting known
Let me tear apart this thought I've had for a while
Yo, all my bitches that make money
Throw ya motherfuckin' hands in the air
'Cause it's all about the money
Money rules the world
I take over all
a feather
I fuck the bitch like the other bitch better
I'm twenty years, tryna get it together
She like a dog, tell her ass, I'ma pet her
I feel like Durk,
that I had at the time was singing. And I thought, well, if I could get a record deal and become a singer, then I can make lots of money and become
picked your casket
You the know vibes
I make one call he gonna die, Oh my
No lie, I might let out my Skitzo side
The demons back you don't get no time
Red
lifestyle ain't changed
It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow
Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho
I rock a waist-length mink,
the man for giving me the day
I got another chance, an opportunity to take
All this money to be made, so I just gotta make a way
Make a play
I'm from
me I meet his ass in his state
Break his face then throw up the rakes and then skate
All the speed let it begin
Spreading my ends in black shops
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