S. Garris - O.T.F.T.M. lyrics

Ay – get money or get gone OT yes! OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah (King Tef) OT get that Louis, OT get that S-cla** OT on my pa**port, get me so fly I got jetlag OT got her on me, OT make her owe me OT got her wearin that she turn around and gon pay it back Overtime on that sober grind Stay gluten-free, but I'm stackin bread Go head mess with my money You won't act up, you'll act dead Like palm readers I feel my hands Play Diddy I'm makin bands I'm overtime like its playoffs And you getting fired on your day off That money clip got me fo mine You loosin yours I'm holdin mine MOT like MOB we getting money overtime I'm affording mine, I'm affording yours My bank account's just more than yours Like they say big money talks But mine's just talkin over yours OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah (Tdot Illdude) Outta town, never outta bounds Colorado got hella pounds Hit the slope and I'm blowin loud n***as know how I hold it down Climb the pole and she goin down Outta town for that money bag Outta town for them greenbacks No debit card, n***a straight cash Don't f** with them n***as If they not tryin to get it All my n***as winnin Hustle hard from the beginning The hustle never endin I be runnin sh** like Emmitt I don't see no ending I feel like Master P I don't see no limit (I don't see not limit) OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah OT for the money OT for the money, yeah (Hypnautic) Chasing the money's like chasing a b**h Stay up in the spot collecting my grip D-double my dollars but off of the grid Trusting nobody head spinnin like rims Off weed my statement 8 figures f** broke I was born a go-getter Wild wild west in CO with triggers Pay all my bills off a few features Ahhh put half in the bank The rest is in hiding call it Ann Frank Repping my city running the state Met your girl on the pol]e blind date Drop the pounds but never lose weight No more games I bought the arcade Sage I'm letting it burn If it doesn't make money I'm never concerned First up always beating the sun Last one to sleep and it making me numb Red Bull mix it up with the rum She wanted to f**, wouldn't give her the tongue Hometown I'm a hero like Krit Mason the way I'm laying the bricks OT is what cuts the checks OT how my pockets get thick This ain't how the west coast rock (OT for the money) This is for the g's and this is for the hustlas (OT for the money) This is for the hustlas now back to the g's (Mr. Midas) Yeah, West up on my O'Shea Been smoking chronic I don't know Dre The homie Jose tell ‘em ole Don't solve it in a year, that's a cold case Different real estate and made a grow space It's pimpin on the tracks, stay in a ho's place OT that's that time and a half I never count the minutes, just up til I crash n***a got a hundred jobs they callin me Slash Rap game, crap game, this sh** like the ave Money hungry, my appetite, she acted like I give a f** in the long run, wrong one Turned up volume ten pistol grip pump Double shift back to back and a side hustle Workin thru carpal tunnel, pulled thigh muscles Runnin to the paper running to the scratch I'm runnin to that dolla running to that sack (Laughter)