Andrews Correa - Money on My Mind lyrics

[Intro] Money on my mind (That's right) So money is all I think of (b**h) [Verse 1] Steppin' out the motherf**in' car They in awe I'm looking like a star, b**h When you see me make a wish Holla at ya motherf**in' boy, J.R Birdman my pa, b**h Ball bred, born rich Dear Mr. Toilet, I'm the sh** 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 And 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 I got my hand on the game Yeah I make a grip Hundred grand in my fist Same on my wrist Get key money from a quarter Blame it on my wrist I whip coke like hoes n***a I'm a pimp Lil n***a 'bout to rape the market If we talking 'bout money Baby, now we talking [Hook] f** b**hes Get money Get money, f** b**hes f** b**hes, get money f** b**hes, get money [Verse 2] n***a get it in a slump if you know how In the heart of the summer we need a snowplow What you know bout that, baby it's yo' time Coke transactions on the phone we call it "blow jobs" Too fast for the feds, too co*ky for the cops Had to ditch my old b**h 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 b**hes, 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 day 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 [Hook] [Verse 3] Twistin' up a blunt Thinkin' 'bout my next dollar I'm digging in the game Tryin' 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 muthaf**er, whoever inside it" Forever symbolizing the grind It don't walk to you I make it run like horses do Giddy up baby If you got it then hit 'em up baby I know it's crazy But I can't get enough, baby I love it, I f**in' love it I'm a self-made millionaire f** the public Ridin' to myself Cause I don't f** with nothin' Pistol on my lap On the way to the money