Clipse - Dirty Money lyrics

(Intro) Yo what up ma, I got a pocket full of stinkies, let's go spin these right quick. What's that? (Chorus) All my fly b**hes like (dirty money, dirty money) All my stripper b**hes like (dirty money, dirty money) All my college hoes like (dirty money, dirty money) Don't it spend so right? (dirty money, dirty money) Now let's go shopping, let's go chill (dirty money, dirty money) Let's go buy the new Louis Vuitton heels (dirty money, dirty money) Ass full in La Perla, ears full of pearls (dirty money, dirty money) Damn dirty money know how to keep the girls (dirty money, dirty money) (Verse 1) Give a litte, take a little Ma check the dilly Most n***as is will-nots YOu're dealin' with a will-y 3D Faces on them crisp new billies Got Benji lookin' all googly-eyed and silly The glitter chill got your mind seein' milly-mills From seven-figure to bigger, you thought see little real See I don't blame you, cashmere is what you feel Picturin' the fortune, you just tryin' to spin the wheel Brain like Terry, face like Eva I ain't forgettin' them other housewives neither Two-seaters, back of the trunk Two fevers Stayin' up till 2AM to watch Cheaters Long as I'm nice with the flame and the flask I don't mind keeping you up on the must-haves Peep-toe pumps, Gucci slouch-bag Now tell me is that dirty money really that bad? (Chorus) (Verse 2) We could trick tuition, you could be the vixen You could front for your girlfriends, I ain't trippin' You done got you a rapper, I see your vision And one of the best too, that's ambition You could tell me 'bout your day, I pretend I'll listen And you ain't gotta love me, just be convincing I don't ask much, some ashes on the cuff and that silver bullet, automatic or the clutch Nah, mama, hush, you ain't even gotta speak Just put it on your charge, check makes your feet Compliments of me, take the bitter with the sweet And we can get this money like it's fallin' outta tree Uh, come spend a dollar, yeah, bathe in it, wallow Seventeen-five for the low, tell 'em holla Love you in the Scotta Jimney two Prada Snow White's your life, how's that for starters? (Chorus) (Verse 3) To my fly ghetto b**hes with the hairshop talk Braggin' to their hairdresser 'bout that sh** he bought To my South Beach b**hes with that sa**y walk Who ain't tryin' to hear nothin' if you don't ride Porsche To my get money n***as gettin' paper for sure Trickin' grands up in Louis for the love of the sport I tell ya, get money money take money money, uh Dope money money's great money money, what? Before I bicker with ya, ma, I'ma switch ya I fly 'em in quick, I fly 'em out even quicker By no means am I in love with a stripper You understand that then you fit in the gla** slipper Travel abroad, sittin' in G4s Changing the weather, when it rains, it pours And your crib is adjoined with French doors You ride for your boy, then anything is yours (Chorus)