Lyrics Where the $ At? - Meyhem Lauren, Buckwild

Where the $ At?

Still rebellious, never jealous, steady getting relish
Y’all embellish while we rocking outfits with propellers
Dice rolling, twice holding, strapped double like some air raids
Squeezing through Queens, rocking some rare shades
Versace type, smelling like Myaki white, floated night
Cuban right, watching swings all night just like a hockey fight
Too fresh, having crew sex up in the duplex
Train your chick like who next, suck it like she got two necks
Fuck her rocking a new vest, send her right back in due stress
Bullet proof glass windows and fine pottery
Never had a job but got work, designed lottery
Fuck a scratch-off, the spat’s off, mixed and match cloth
Keep our guns on but when we eat we take our hats off
Shrimp scaloppini, linguini treated with squid ink
Block server, murder, got further cause I did think
Plans handcrafted by the palms of perfection
Never lost defection, being gracious my profession
Part of my DNA, flows through my bloodstream
Made me dig clean cream, peace to my thug team
My squad is like half of geniuses
Hop out coupes and tell police to suck our penises
We need raw money, we need war money
We need tour money, we need your money
We need more money, we need raw money
We need more money, we need more money
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
fresh,, doing it to the death
Mister ass licker, AKA doodoo breath
Polo rocking worldwide, rest in peace for girls cry
Old school student with young boy movement
Earth traveled, bitches and birds babble
My wallet’s big enough to be a saddle
Brain waves the size of tsunamis
Popping bottles in the bank, invite a few mommies
Money machines, seem to be correct
I want my shit in cash, don’t trust nobody’s check
Direct deposit is modest as far as charges
Pay me first before you holler bout some bargains
Thirsty thirst, with that Brownsville spirit
Have mind to be mine, I ain’t tryna hear it
Much cash, mustache, have my bread hung fast, lung stab
Watch that step, don’t ever owe me
Cause I’m taking all those rings, the necklace and the gold teeth
And your little darling’s rosaries
Talk is cheap so I’ll speech you senseless
You’s a tooth over loot, let me be the dentist
Dungaree deep since lean jeans was popping
Got heavy promotion, that’s thanks to the gossip
Flight school groups trained to skydive
Kitty litter money, the shit got nine lives
We need raw money, we need war money
We need tour money, we need your money
We need more money, we need raw money
We need more money, we need more money
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)
Where the money at?
(What?)