Turf Talk - Bout' My Money lyrics

(Rick rock beats) [Verse 1: E40] Fetti focused, I'm focused on my fetti mayne I don't think these s**ers really understand There's enough money out there for all of us to have But s**ers don't wanna see other brothers get cash I'm from the mud, Halloween mask and surgical gloves Where there's more hate than love, where clients plot on their plug Turn on their own flesh and blood, do em dirty just like a rug... Hard looks and mugs, bandannas and grudge Five point five sixes and fifty caliber slugs Half of these b**hes will get you k**ed at the club But you dodge for push ups or you can you pay me in bud Or some booger sugar better bet I get it off I'm a thug She got a big bu*t (big bu*t) Some high heels (high heels) I pull up in the house, on wheels I got a couple zaps of some good k** She like the way I rap she know that I'm for real (BIIAATCH) [Hook: E-40] Bout my money, bout my money Bout my money, bout my money Bout my money, bout my money Bout my money, bout my money Bout my money, bout my money Bout my money, bout my money Bout my money, bout my money Bout my money, bout my money [Verse 2: Too Short] I got a pocket full, I'm a Taurus, you can't stop the bull Whenever I spit my game, I make a whole lot then spend that change And even if you make more, you can't knock b**hes like playboy Short I keep pouring shots, I keep these who*es hot So bring me two more bottles got the finest women but I don't f** no models Bad girls is what I prefer, she take your sh**, there's no stopping her Aggressive women that swing both ways And throwin panties on the stage I put this dick in her mouth, she ain't resist Didn't pay her, so it can't be this. (BIIAATCH) [Hook] [Bridge: Jeremih] Said step in the club throwin paper today Now I'm cuttin your girl, call it Papier-mâché Head down, no-nothing to say Everything she want but a kiss on her face Fifth of that Henny got me sippin the Privvy Yeah I ordered that p**y then she came here delivered Damn right I'm a charge her cause she right in my hand Actin a fool, so I gave her a Emmy [Verse 3: Turf Talk] My lingo produce payroll Yeah, that Benz that I drive all paid for It's all good, everything Gucci now But it came a long way from them hand me downs Yeah it's all good, steak every other night But it came a long way from that beans and rice b**hes pay us, they support us Broke hoes holla, but they can't afford us I'm color blind, so I two-toned it And I can stretch out, ain't got no roof on it We don't love hoes, knock a b**h down Put your face to the gla** like Chris Brown Take a picture b**h, Polaroid They juiced up, my pockets on steroids I know some n***as that'll k**, dog For the dollar dollar bill ya'll [Hook] [Bridge: Jeremih] [Jeremih continued] Throw it, throw it, you know the sound Broke and you a s**er that's the sh** we don't allow Is the baddest of the b**hes out there somewhere in the crowd? If she got a [?] on it then I put my money down Down, down, throw my money down Down, down, I put my money down Down, down, if she baddest down She got it and I want it then I put my money down b**h