Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Money, artist - Boy BacksDate of issue: 04.07.2016
Song language: English
Money |
| Yeah, Freedom of Speech |
| Somethin' I gotta say to my black women |
| Matter fact, all the, all the race of women right now |
| Goin' through it with they man, holdin' them down |
| Knowhatimsayin', word up |
| Yo, I know you tired of them same ol' thugs |
| I know you tired of them same ol' thugs |
| I know you tired of them same ol' thugs |
| It be them same ol' faces, in them same ol' clubs |
| With them same ol' drinks, and them same ol' drugs |
| That kick the same ol' game, just to claim your love |
| I know you tired of them same ol' thugs |
| I know you tired of them same ol' thugs |
| Spiritual girl, born in the material world |
| Think she’d hear wisdom, instead of some pearls |
| Rose petal drop, he loves me, he loves me not |
| Sittin' in the Benz drop-top, a traffic cop |
| Tried to talk to her, like his game was hot |
| She drove off, left him standin' there with dust to cough |
| Miss New York, intelligent, loved to talk |
| She could hold a conversation with conscious thoughts |
| Delicate was her heart, plus her touch is soft |
| She don’t care about a diamond ring, or what it’s cost |
| She took a lost, last time, a nigga chain was floss |
| She remind of me of Diana Ross, brown and short |
| Excuse me, you dropped your passport, inside of the court |
| I could tell she was feelin' me, but playin' it off |
| I’m a lawyer on the third floor, I seen you before |
| Matter fact, I traced it back, it was up in The Source |
| I gotta go, here’s my card, hope you need a divorce |
| I lit a cigarette, and laughed, and preceded to walk |
| The second time I’ve seen her, it was up in Club Cheetah’s |
| Like Solomon and Queen Ashibah, but I be cheaper |
| Watched her before I greet her, she kept dissin' all the fake thugs trynna meet |
| her |
| Blowin' they reefer, askin' her to write down they cell phone and beeper |
| From here I can read her, but damn, she is a diva |
| A primadonna, might be an anaconda |
| I crept up from behind her, tapped the shoulder |
| She turned around, noticed it’s me, played me closer |
| Sippin' on a cold Corona, this ain’t a place for an older |
| Mature like woman, who stay sober, we left before the party’s over |
| I know a better place to chill and build about our black culture… word up |