Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Money, artist - Freeway. Date of issue: 14.02.2010
Song language: English
Money |
| I feel you Free |
| Goin through this recession and shit |
| Now them hoes actin up |
| Bills keep comin in, shit, focus |
| I used to get money from slingin the dope |
| But since they cracked down on that dope slingin, I’m broke |
| And I used to get money from slingin the crack |
| But since they cracked down on that crack slingin, I’m cracked |
| I used to get it there, expert at bringin 'em back |
| But now it ain’t no packages to get there |
| Prior to that I was fillin apps |
| A few years before that was in the Barbershop sweepin hair |
| Little Barbershop sweeper kid, cop a hustle |
| Was sellin incense and oils to all the people there |
| Sixth, seventh and eighth grade I kept a couple |
| Dollars for work and fresh sneakers, I was hurtin 'em |
| Yep, now it’s a recession and I’m stressin |
| I need it for lesser, I’m not tryin to be a working man |
| I’m sure not tryin to do carpentry like my pops |
| Big pain in the bottom of his back and it be hurtin him, damn! |
| Ohhh, I close my eyes and all I can see is that money (money, money) |
| Money (money, money) |
| A list of things that my people need but first is money (money, money) |
| Money (money, money) |
| It ain’t like I found a pot of gold (no) |
| This ain’t a dream, this is reality homes |
| That’s why my main focus is on that money (focus on the money) |
| Money (money, money) |
| Just broke a new broad, she wants the fancy car |
| A nigga stacked up a yard, she tryin to spend it all |
| I’m out slingin the hard and don’t respect the law |
| Bent a few wrong corners and that, of course, involved |
| From C-A to D-A, they tryin to take it all |
| I think I need a vacation, reach out through calling cards |
| Or make the mind frame vicious and start a Holocaust |
| I figure man, what’s the difference? |
| That shit’ll all a cost |
| Fuck it, let a nigga ball |
| Money, money, money |
| Money is my bitch, ho breed envy, I keep pourin Henny |
| Screamin «fuck 'em!», that’s the nigga in me |
| Y’all ain’t come from the trap or trenches with me |
| When cops knocked and locked me |
| Guns plural, serve riches to El Toros |
| From the projects, suburbs to the Borough |
| Runnin through your small town |
| Spit Philly game and lock it down |
| Focus and only here for one purpose, that is |
| Philly Free on his grind, I need my paper straight |
| So I’m creatin these rhymes without a paper mate |
| That got me bustin these lines, they got me rackin my mind |
| They got me standin in line behind my label mates |
| No, I’m not Jay but I am on the way |
| And I am not Kanye but I can produce +Heartbreaks & 808s+ |
| And reduce the studio costs |
| Cause I’m recording in the hood, I’m not lampin in the Mandalay |
| I’m makin hits, I need the same attention they get |
| Them niggas throw a temper tantrum, you don’t hand 'em pay |
| Record labels tryin to jerk me like a hand job |
| If they don’t hand me mine, I know how to handle this |
| Leave somebody slumped, Riot Pump pistol grip |
| But fuck sittin in prison wastin my plans away |
| I guess I gotta find another way to make the pay |
| Let me know if you can find a way to make the chips |