Yeah
(Money on my mind)
That's right
(So money is all I think of)
That's right
(Money on my mind)
Bitch
You know
Bitch, bitch
(So money is all I think of)
Ayy
Stepping out the motherfucking car
They in awe
I'm looking like a star, bitch
When you see me make a wish
Holla at your motherfucking boy, J.R
Birdman my pa, bitch
Ball bred, born rich
Dear Mr. Toilet, I'm the shit
Got these other haters pissed
'Cause my toilet paper thick
I know, but trip
And that .40 make a chip
Out a potato-head wimp
Then, like ranch, I dip
And the hustle is all muscle
Just strength
When it comes to that weight I don't struggle
I just lift (one-two)
I got my hand on the game
Yeah I make a grip
Hundred grand in my fist
Same on my wrist
Get ki money from a quarter
Blame it on my wrist
I whip coke like hoes
Nigga I'm a pimp
Lil nigga 'bout to rape the market
If we talking 'bout money
Baby, now we talking
(Money on my mind)
Yeah, fuck bitches, fuck bitches, fuck bitches
Get money, get money, get money
(So money is all I think of)
Get money, fuck bitches
Fuck bitches, get money
Fuck bitches, get money
Nigga, get it in a slump
If you know how
In the heart of the summer
We need a snow plow
What you know about that
Baby, it's your time
Coke transactions
On the phone we call it "blow jobs"
Too fast for the feds
Too cocky for the cops
Had to ditch my old bitch
Getting sloppy with the pots
Hopping off the boat
Meeting Papi at the docks
He tell me I'm gaining weight
I tell him I'm getting paid
Money Over Bitches, I'm yelling it to the grave
Developed at a young age
Go after what pays
These Gabbana sunshades
Block the sun rays
I drop a car note in the mall on the first date
I gotta get it even if it's in the worst way
That cake, like it's-it's my birthday
New Orleans my birthplace
Ya heard me?
Where money's more important than a person
(Money on my mind)
Yeah, fuck bitches, fuck bitches, fuck bitches
Get money, get money, get money
(So money is all I think of)
Get money, fuck bitches
Fuck bitches, get money
Fuck bitches, get money
Twisting up a blunt
Thinking 'bout my next dollar
I'm digging in the game
Trying to get some money out her
I'm so vain it's a problem
There ain't a stain on these Pradas
I'm just being modest
Got me a goddess
Show her how to divide it
She still down
And she don't get none of the profit
Wheel around the city, let the tints hide me
"That's a cold motherfucker, whoever inside it"
Forever symbolizing the grind
It don't walk to you
I make it run like horses do
Giddy-up baby
If he got it then hit him up baby
I know it's crazy
But I can't get enough baby
I love it, I fucking love it
I'm a self-made millionaire
Fuck the public
Riding to myself
'Cause I don't fuck with nothing
Pistol on my lap
On the way to the money
(Money on my mind)
Yeah, fuck bitches, fuck bitches, fuck bitches
Get money, get money, get money
(So money is all I think of)
Get money, fuck bitches
Fuck bitches, get money
Fuck bitches, get money
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
