| Y’all already know what it do nigga?
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| Theres money over here, Cash Money over here, nigga
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| Me and the little J.R., Like that homeboy
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| We on the grind nigga, got some muscle nigga, shine nigga, like father like son
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| nigga
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| Hey we drive shiver, headlights like a light bulb, that means the cars
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| expensive you stupid f**k, keep a nigga pimpin now nigga
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| I know some niggas that’ll murk ya for a quarter birdy
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| You bitch ass nigga just be lucky that the boy ain’t hurt me
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| I got the money to lag, and I got that swager workin
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| I’m smokin some I can’t pronounce, but I’m behind them phantom curtain
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| What is you hiding bitch?
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| I’m on some paper shit
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| She wants to make me dinner
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| I tell her, «Make me rich.»
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| Your f**kin with a winner
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| But I come from the litter
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| Woke up out of bed and I can that dirt and turn that shit to glitter
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| I leave the work with her
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| yeah, she my baby sitter
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| And if I find out she’s stealin
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| For reala I’ma kill her
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| I’m just a money man
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| So where the dollars at?
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| Some around back, Ima work until them flowers black
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| She wanna ride on this
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| I make her ride with that
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| Her pistol and her celly, thats her survival pack
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| And do I love her? |
| Naahhh
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| Man I just love the spirit
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| Blind, deaf or crazy, its money over bitches
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| Now errbody that I’m knowin get that money baby
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| And we aint worried bout them hoes, get that money baby
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| You get that cook or that blow you are called a baller
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| If you aint talkin about that dough, homie what you talkin?
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| So get your game up
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| Take a bitch, break a bitch
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| Strap her down with work, and tell her dont trip, take a trip
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| Get your hustle up
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| The money’s what you make of it
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| These niggas wanna cook down they clothes, they close down the bakery
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| So stop stuntin homie, false promotin
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| It aint about what you make
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| Its about what you told em
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| Burn him up and leave him naked
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| Bring him back to his wiiifffee
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| The bitch aint even cry cuz he was living that liiifffee
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| These niggas think I’m slippin cuz I’m fallin back
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| Bitch, I got money and a wall for that
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| When you get it from the ground homie
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| And hold the hood down
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| And don’t make a sound if the people swing around
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| Bitch, do ya thing hoe
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| Hussle, try to stay low
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| This is for my old school g’s who aint around this bitch
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| But shorty, they aint f**kin with pops
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| Let them niggas chase that pussy, we gonna follow tha guap
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| Now errbody that I’m knowin get that money baby
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| And we aint worried bout them hoes, get that money baby
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| You get that cook or that blow you are called a baller
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| If you aint talkin about that dough, homie what you talkin?
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| 50 stacks in the garden and the backyard
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| Youngin talkin, turn a key into a crack charge
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| Y’all niggas aint eatin how we eatin
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| F**k how we used to be
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| Now we how we need to be
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| If they aint with us
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| They must be against us
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| We shoot em in the head, cuz the act like they sistas
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| If you aint gettin bread, nigga keep ya distance
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| Sharks over here, nigga keep on fishin
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| Money, money, money, is my intuition
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| Money over bitches, such an easy decision
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| Young money, money men, monster militia
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| Hard body, these niggas is a box of tissue
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| That nina will kiss ya
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| That chopper will twist ya
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| 380 snap shots, now smile for the pictures
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| Wheezy motherf**kin baby, pay me
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| A 9 to 5 is over rated
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| I’m on that grind hoe
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| Now errbody that I’m knowin get that money baby
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| And we aint worried bout them hoes, get that money baby
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| You get that cook or that blow you are called a baller
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| If you aint talkin about that dough, homie what you talkin? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Get That Money , by - Birdman. Song from the album Like Father Like Son, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп