Problem - All About The Money (Remix) lyrics

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Problem - All About The Money (Remix) lyrics

You never see nothing like this A n***a sleeping with your missis n***a Call me young mellow Cause the storm is my sh** And I'm handling a rock chev Cooking with the pot boy It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money She on a period like in a sentence She top me off and gets back to the rich Oh yeah she's ridin' She needs the digits Where the money? Where, where the money? I like n***a with money I like Jews Short views I ain't really scared of them I ain't really with the f**ing boy Everything I do is for survival Being broke is my only real rival Cindy back packin' then we back trackin' Hella wavy, 80's baby yeah we back crackin' Just whe n you thought we were gone We'd be right back Keep my boot between her lags cause she likes that They live from the heart I ain't like that n***a mad to the money Where my wife's at? You never see nothing like this A n***a sleeping with your missis n***a Call me young mellow Cause the storm is my sh** And I'm handling a rock chev Cooking with the pot boy It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money I be in the hood trying to ring her So the baby in my boots cause I'm sh**ting '94 and we're more in the kitchen Cooking birds n***a said is for giving Underscore n***a I know it from the wooping Underscore n***a I know it from the wooping One reply to you n***a Sneak distance s** a dick When you see me you know I'm dripping You never see nothing like this A n***a sleeping with your missis n***a Call me young mellow Cause the storm is my sh** And I'm handling a rock chev Cooking with the pot boy It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money It's all about the motherf**ing money No limit to my money I should get a tank They walk me to the back And she really wants me back Face running n every song Give me fate That's a hit Let it hit He got 6 feet I got 6 figures Nonetheless you see the shots coming on the hippers Like the trip Like the giver I'm a big chipper Thousand dollars at my wrist for the b**h n***a You never see nothing like this A n***a sleeping with your missis n***a Call me young mellow Cause the storm is my sh** And I'm handling a rock chev Cooking with the pot boy