Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bout My Business, artist - Ja Rule. Album song R.U.L.E., in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
Bout My Business |
Yeah. |
Yeah, yeah, yo |
I got a knack for pushin crack, and cookin raw coke |
Fresh off the boat, no vest but I tote, and wear it like a coat |
I’m starin through the scope, with one eye open and one shut |
Zero in on the target, spark him and watch his head bust |
Ain’t shit to discuss, unless it’s moneybags |
Or the SK-8, drop Jag with funny tags |
Homey laugh now but die later when the lead dump |
And double barrel slugs like Elmer Fudd, I’m handsome |
Some of your favorite rappers is flamin, I’m bangin things at them |
They claim they gangster, lettin mens give brains to them |
I aim the stainless, let the games begin |
Bang bang dangerous, my gun gang famous |
My hoes don’t speak english, catch 'em at the foreign money exchange |
New Armani leather in the Range |
When you see my gang, tuck in your chain |
We stuck in the game, we fuckin the same, bang! |
I’m bout my money and bout my business (bang!) |
Shout out my niggas en route to riches (bang!) |
I doubt we different, hustlers pitchin (bang!) |
And we all gon' get away, all my niggas say |
I’m bout my money and bout my business (yeah!) |
Whatta, bout my bitches who mouth is ridiculous (yeah!) |
Gettin money and nigga it’s insignificant (yeah! what?) |
Always get your pay, I love it when I hear 'em say |
It’s back to business, stackin riches |
If you, act suspicious, it’s a Wrap like Reynolds |
Black Continental, mac outta the window |
Black’s out of his mental, I black out with pistols |
It ain’t confidential, all the shit I been through |
Now I’m gettin money and a mill' is essential |
Bang bang, nigga, 'til the day we die |
A tooth for a tooth and a eye for a eye |
Nigga you know it’s, business befo' pleasure, money over chicks |
Dummies in the clip, nickel on my hip patrollin through the strip |
Bet a stack, head crack, no rollin to the six |
Scoop up my chips, then I split, with my beautiful bitch |
Like Jada Pinkett Smith, for that paper I leave stinkin and stiff |
Your pinky and wrist, and your necklace |
Get removed nigga, my wolves is playin hardball |
Leavin him bloody like a Pelican Bay yard brawl |
Who wanna know why I got so much beef with so many rappers? |
Drama, it’s the INC redrum spun backwards |
Karma, is a muh’fucker watch your actions |
Cause the clip to the max slips in bananas |
I catch fire like matches then blow out |
And the flyest crews goin the fastest |
Pull up to the hottest club in New York, with my hazards on |
No tags, I just drove it off the showroom floor |
Straight cash, bout my paper, I’m on my gangster |
Doin this shit for ten years, niggas I’m major |
Maybach and all that, same behaviour |
Money over bitches, bitches over strangers |
Guns befo' bangers but bangers do |
For niggas that had enough and ain’t got no clue |
That they can get slayed, flex and get sprayed |
And spin they head like yo' hottest DJ’s, motherfuckers! |
I’m bout my money and bout my business. |