[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