Lyrics Get Money - Jae Millz

Get Money

Ay, let’s do it!
RIP, BIG
Wanna sip Rose in my new condo
Play PS4 with mac can see…
Pick up my iPhone, try to crack the task code
Get loud till I get in, and I bust your ass mode
The truth… smoke on my weeds
That’s.
pussies singing in middle Z
Now check it!
If another nigga fuck, you better make 'em pay
Bring 'em back to daddy
And pick up some take out on the way
Yeah, my flow nice like a sunny day
And … in the middle of May
Me and my team used to smoke the goons and pray
And the way we seem them haters, the money get in the way
Mills in this bitch, New York city, I got this!
I plan this, pacify whoever they say the hot is (real talk)
Rest in peace, Christopher Wallace
I’m still getting them dollars
Cubans sit on them… on them collars
Still we’re eating like we hit the lotto
I do the chick, and Marcel and my lady do the lobster and muscatto
All that and a bottle of dark pin
Niggas get on me, I keep it on me
Arms be under the arm rest in arm’s reach
Ain’t nobody throwing punches, so fuck your arm speed!
Check, I love 'em!
Problems with my wife, don’t discuss them
Shit like that ain’t up for discussion
Niggas social media ain’t beefing like you can’t touch 'em
Every rapper odd till they wake up from a contusion
So I live in the club with me, and you stared fussing
Nah, you ain’t flipping that at all, we call that cuffing
I’mma ball till I die, bitch!
My closet only hang with fly shit
My passport tear it up, yeah, I fly big
And being myself forever on that damn white shit, yeah!
Call the gang, bitch
Jae Millz, bitch!
Get money!