Rick Ross - All About The Money lyrics

Published

0 97 0

Rick Ross - All About The Money lyrics

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane] I'm on my way to see my P.O I ain't talking about probation officer Talking about my P.O. box, they just sent me 3 million dollars (What the f** that mean n***a?) All my hoes go to the beauty parlor Bought my ma a house today I'll buy my auntie one tomorrow I just left the Phantom lot I didn't do no paper work 300K, my paper work just like the New Boys "I'm a jerk " You bring your girl your feelings hurt Cause like R .Kelly "I'm a Flirt " I got work like babe and them, a Geto Boy like 'Face and them It ain't no mistaking him Hottest boys out Drake and him Me, Juiceman and Waka and them Ride around with choppers, pimp So how the hell you chop or flip you water bluffing water whimp Theres no limit to Gucci money just ask Silk the Shock & them [Hook] Burglar bars around the door (word) My country boys they want some more (birds) Early in the morning Later in the evening I'm all about that money man even when I'm sleeping I'm all about that money Don't make me send my goons to gunning I'm all about that money Don't make me send my goons to gunning [Verse 2: Rick Ross] All about my money, n***a, run with my monopoly Money; my philosophy, c**aine on my property Yeah, that b**h a stripper, but there's so much she can offer me Gave me the connect, he send me 7 and say it's all for me Money build my confidence Shorty, show your competence Before I get another b**h, cause I be on some other sh** Higher than a mothership Louis in my seven-tre Gucci in my other sh** Gucci, pa** the other clip Thirty rounds, them I'mma dip I can make a Hummer flip I can make a hundred flip- That's one Bahamas trip Make your mama strip I'm bout that dead pres So for the bread I make you play a game of Simon Says [Hook] [Verse 3: Gucci Mane] Like Batman and Robin we be flogging mobbing inside Aston Martins Beg your pardon Gucci darling More check than a check-o-slovin Whats your motherf**ing problem? Ross and Gucci I'm-a rob em How you ganna rob the robbers? These home boys got too much armor We got so much j**elry on We just make your vision dizzy Give your a** a charm and watch it make your fingers pissing [Verse 4- Rick Ross] Damnit boy I'm spilling Chrissy Ye Yellow b**hes blowing kisses Ricky Ross about them digits On the stage or in the kitchen