Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mind on My Money , by - DJ Screw. Release date: 04.10.1999
Song language: English
Mind on My Money |
| I’m thristy than a bitch, what’s the deal |
| Shit I’m bout to call up my bitch in the paint |
| See what she up to, know what I’m sayin' |
| Pull over and see what’s the deal, know what I’m sayin' |
| Nineteen ninety motherfuckin' nine (Nineteen ninety nine) |
| Nineteen ninety nine, can’t you see, nineteen ninety nine |
| (The whole Screwed Up Family) third coast, H-Town |
| Texas ballers (Real G’s hook it up) |
| Got my money on my mind (Cause we down south) |
| We got our mind on our money, money on our mind |
| Screwed Up Click for life and ya know we put it down |
| We got our mind on our money, money on our mind |
| Finger on our trigga nigga, hand on our nine |
| I gotta thinkin' that I’m makin money all day |
| And to my niggas that know, we all ball this way |
| Never ever set trippin' got love for G’s |
| Pimpin' on my nigga, rise up of these |
| I broke em' off in 92 schools, shit on the under |
| 96, 97 gotta trunk full of thunder |
| All screwed up, pausin' music in the streets |
| And got the Feds kickin' down doors searchin' for the cheese |
| Down south, black Jeeps slangin' dope ass tapes |
| Chopin' up records, spittin' game in the brace |
| Outsiders lookin' in tryin' to see what I’m doin' |
| I’m inside lookin' out now they plan is ruined |
| Police takin' pictures of the crib yellin' «Drugs sold» |
| 100,000 sold, what the fuck I need drug fo' |
| DJ Screw, independent in this game |
| Sippin' Cogn with my niggas, ain’t a damn thang changed |
| I didn’t fall off like ya thought I would |
| I done hopped of lockdown, ballin' in the hood |
| G’d up on the set, soakin' wet |
| Hoes lickin' my sweat, from my ankles to my neck |
| And I ain’t through yet, fixin' to cash my check |
| Smoke a gank of stanky dank and ride until the sunset |
| In my Hoo-Doo jammin' nothin' but screw-zoo |
| Makin' boo-koo, I’m on the ends like I used to |
| Still true to the game, swervin' lane to lane |
| Mary Jane got my window pane foggy in the rain |
| And man what a shame I feel so good |
| Fresh off lock, a nigga back in the hood |
| Ballin' outta control pockets roll to get swole up |
| Screwed Up Click worldwide and takin' over |
| Southside for life, this is Al-D |
| Livin' my life as a young black G |
| Yeah my cars roll candy and my hoops stay tinted |
| Southside, 3rd Ward represent like I’m in it |
| Now these niggas out here comin' and these cuts ain’t givin' a damn |
| Better adapt, as they strapped, why these hoes got me tapped |
| Get a slub and hit em' in the freckles |
| Lookin' for Hyde crock a lie with the Jekyll |
| Chick be a trip so I peep when I flip |
| They get more and more hip with every bumpin' hit |
| With the turns, lettin' it burn, dodgin' white folks |
| Zones to the dome got me guffed in weed smoke |
| These streets be like freaks ready to fuck, butt naked |
| Get some of that head when they least expect it |
| Glock sittin' on my hood’s hip and I’mma bail |
| That shit was hell, had my ace brain under my fingernail |
| Better smell the dope analyze the lines |
| Gone off pine stayin' crooked all the times |
| In this game if ya snooze ya lose |
| I paid my dues, roads to riches is the path I choose |
| Stackin' my fetti full focus, with my eyes on the prize |
| Watchin' for hoes and foes while I’m on the uprise |
| Fill the heater with extra clips, rollin' so low |
| Cause ya never know what homo wanna break ya off on the low low |
| Ridin' for mine cause I trust my bitch, my Glock |
| For these niggas that shortstop, I bombard they road blocks |
| And marked for death versus a damn Mafia hit |
| Got me fucked up from droppin' LP’s with the Click |
| We talk the talk and we walk the walk |
| Realest niggas from the south straight hoggin' with the galk |
| We got our mind on our money, money on our mind |
| My fingers on my trigga and I’m gone off nine |