| Fuck a rubber band, a nigga need a bunch of ropes
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| Fuck a rubber band, a nigga need a bunch of ropes
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| Fuck a rubber band, a nigga need a bunch of ropes
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| Fuck a rubber band, a nigga need a bunch of ropes
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| (Yo Gotti)
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| Yo, it’s Gucci
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| R.I.P. |
| Pimp C mayne
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| (Get that street money, street money, street money)
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all day, count money all, money all
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all, money all, money all day
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| Say mayne, no matter where I go (I go), no matter what I do (I do)
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| If chillin with myself (myself) or ballin with my crew (my crew)
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| If skies is lookin cloudy or Bahama water blue
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| I got that money on my mind (my mind), so tell me what it do (it do)
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| And if you be like me, then you already knew it (knew it)
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| We goin for the money, then we goin right through it (through it)
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| We take it to the table baby, chop it up and screw it (screw it)
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| Cause it ain’t nothin to it, where I come from but to do it (do it)
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| We get it in our hands and then it go right through the fingers (fingers)
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| We spend it on a system and a fresh set of swangers (swangers)
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| We pop a couple tags, put some fresh up on our hangers (hangers)
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| That everyday struggle and can’t 'nam nigga change us (change us)
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| Believe that I was famous 'fore I ever did a song (song)
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| Believe I had a poppin 'fore a label put me on (on)
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| It’s 2010 and I ain’t seein nothin wrong (wrong)
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| With niggas countin money all day fuckin long (long)
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all day, count money all, money all
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all, money all, money all day
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| Money toting, pistol carrying, young nigga thugged out
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| Very first song I ever dropped was in a drug house
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| Razor blades, sandwich bags, Louis shoes, stupid swag
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| Rubber bands, duffle bags, small bills, trash bags
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| A chain on my neck, you know that cost stupid cash
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| Maserati for the watch, that’s that foolish cash
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| Penitentiary chances, sixes on a muscle car
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| Bun told me keep it real and watch it take me far
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| Now my money don’t fold (fold), this money here
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| I ain’t make it for no hoes, I ain’t get this off no shows
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| Talk money all day, count money all night
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| Trust no one with my paper, so I count my paper twice
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| I be lonely without my paper, so I sleep with it at night
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| Now I wake up to my paper, so I start my day off right
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| They call me Cocaine Gotti, Mr. Money Over Bitches
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| Mr. Everything White, he be always in the kitchen
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all day, count money all, money all
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all, money all, money all day
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| I’m the shit bitch, you smell me? |
| Ain’t no need to check ya sneakers
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| Three bricks, plus a split with me, then bitch you got a hit (yeah)
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| Make money on my leisure
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| Pop bottles with top models, with my goons in Puerto Rico
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| Yo' girlfriend I’m a freak her (yeah)
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| Believe me I’m a turn you non-believers to believers
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| I own the team I play for, plus I coach 'em, I’m the center
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| The hottest rapper that you know, Big Willie like Cujo (Gucci)
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| I got one thousand, million ties, I sold your dice for uno
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| So tune into East Atlanta, uh
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| Please don’t change the channel ma
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| Roll the windows down back up, my Phantom, show my Audemars
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| Hangin out my part-a-ner, what you want—an autograph?
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| Thinkin that you angry cause my neck look like the Mardi Gras
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all day, count money all, money all
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| Count money all day, count money all day
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| Count money all, money all, money all day |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Countin' Money , by - Bun B. Song from the album Trill O.G. (Screwed), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп