Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Get Money, artist - DJ Cut Killer. Album song Hip-Hop Soul Party, Vol. 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 11.05.2010
Record label: Double H
Song language: English
Get Money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| You wanna sip mo' on my living room flo' |
| Play Nintendo with cease a Leo |
| Pick up my phone say «Poppa not home» |
| Sex all night mad head in the morn' |
| Spin my V, smoke all my weed |
| Tattoo on sayin' B I G, now check it |
| You wanna be my main squeeze baby |
| Don’tcha, you wanna gimme what I need baby |
| Won’tcha, picture life as my wife just think |
| Full length mink, fat X and O links |
| Bracelets to match, conversation was all that |
| Showed you the safe combinations and all that |
| Guess you could say you’s the one I trusted |
| Who would ever think that you would spread like mustard? |
| Got hot, you sent feds to my spot |
| Took me to court, tried to take all I got |
| 'Nother intricate plot, the bitch said, «I raped her» |
| Damn, why she wanna stick me for my paper? |
| My mo-sci-no, my ver-sa-ce hottie |
| Come to find out, you was everybody |
| You knew about me, the fake ID |
| Cases in Virginia, body in D. C |
| Woe, oh is me, that’s what I get for trickin' |
| Pay my own bail, commence to kickin' |
| Lick in the door, wavin' the four-four |
| All you heard was, poppa don’t hit me no more |
| Disrespect my click, my imperial |
| Fuck around and made her milk box material |
| You feel me? |
| suckin', runnin' your lips |
| 'Cause of you, I’m on some real |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Betta grab a seat grab on your as this gets deep |
| Deeper than the of a six feet |
| Stiff feel sweet in this little petite |
| Young from the street, guaranteed to stay down |
| Used to bring work outta town on Greyhound |
| Now I’m Billboard now, press to hit it |
| Play me like a chicken, thinkin' I’m pressed to get it |
| Rather do the killin' than the stick up jooks |
| Or rather count a million while you eat my |
| Push me to the limit get my feelings in it |
| Get me open while I’m cummin' down your throat |
| You wanna be my main squeeze |
| Don’tcha, you wanna lick between my knees |
| Don’tcha wanna see me whippin' your three down the Ave |
| Blow up spots on because I’m mad |
| Break up affairs lick shots in the air |
| You get vexed, and start swingin' everywhere |
| Me shifty now you wanna pistol whip me? |
| Pull out your nine, while I cock on mine |
| Yeah what? |
| I ain’t got time for this |
| So what? |
| I’m not tryin' to hear that |
| Now you wanna buy me diamonds and Armani suits |
| Adia Vinadini and Chanel lime boots |
| Things that make up, for all the games and the lies |
| Hallmark cards, sayin, «I apologize» |
| Is you with me how could you ever deceive me? |
| But payback’s a, believe me |
| Naw I ain’t gay this ain’t no flow |
| Just a little somethin', to let you motherfucker know |
| Get money |
| Get money |
| Get money |