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Malachi - Money Rulers lyrics

[Hook: Grand Ricky] (X2)
Money Rulers up in this b**h
GK up in this b**h
Ric Flair up in this b**h
Malachi up in this b**h
Kimo up in this b**h
We gettin' faded up in this b**h
You in the club and you gettin' money
Turn up when you hear this sh**

[Verse 1: Kimo]
UPFM my n***as
If you don't know, get to know
Cuz you n***as ain't ready for this sh**

Ah just stop it, I'm hot as the f**ing tropics
When I roll I rock it, there's a show I stop it
You mad cos your album flopping
This album gonna be popping
You n***as know it's dropping…well, what you mean change the topics?
Call it a cruel summer
Salty a** n***as cos they did cruel numbers
You fraud f**s is Poppoff
Call this the college dropout
We blew up, you cop out
You shop in, we shop out-side of the floor
Fit is looking couture
Unreleased of course
I'm a beast of course
f** a piece of course
I need at least a course
I'mma need a f**ing leash to keep b**h n***as away
And at bay…For sure
Hah, maybe I should just let the beat ride
Marble floors and my feet slide
Take yours and I'll keep mine
All cake as I eat pie
Press play and then rewind
Now ain't that f**ing special
They say trust in your God man, but ain't that f**ing level
k**ing n***as I revel, surprise and you meet the devil
White girl, she a right girl
Coffee coloured kids, keep the Hoff in all my sh**
Cos my b**hes Baywatch, and yes you n***as may watch
Oh lord, it's the new gen
[Lyrics from: https:/]
You need new raps, get a new pen
f** Billboard we off the charts
Your lungs fill but ain't got the heart
Old n***as broke, this the new school. Money Rules

[Hook] (X2)

[Verse 2: Grand Kaiser]
GK, in the club
Model b**h, feel her up
My chain glows, fill my cup
Money Ruler, get it understood
Hoes call me over-zealous, you gettin' money don't ever tell us
Chocolate b**h, taste like Nutella
Smoke so much that Lost gets jealous, boy
You better fall back, I'm all that
You workin' out, my pockets fat
Bill Gates can't compete with that, phony haters get none of that
I'm all in, I'm bossin', from Boston
Crimes don't get called in, and I ball just like Spalding
UPFM, we rule that money
Girl come here, why you actin' funny?
All these other dudes is straight up dummies
Come home with me, I'mma make you my honey
f** a b**h, then I kick her out
Dollar signs, what we about
Punchlines, got a sweet amount
Them raps are sick, I bleed 'em out
Quittin? f** that, stay winnin' no Pippen, all that
Get money all day, on the right track
Collab with me, you on the right track
Sniffy that molly off a girl tits
Yeah, I'm winnin', check the gold on my wrists
Girls see me walk in, they cannot resist
Real player sh**, I cater this, wa**up
You know the sh** I rock so rare
Fur in the summer, like a bear
You a fruity little b**h, like a pear
If you broke and you dissin', that ain't ever fair
Real sh**
Leather skinnies, jesus piece
Black skully, crewneck tee
It's simple homie, you ain't livin'
GK gettin' bands? That's a given
Come at me, we loadin' clips in
Real pimp sh**, you straight simpin'
This the money love song, play this when you get rich, son

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