Lyrics Money - Joe Blow

Money

Got on my new Michael Jordans, jeans from Michael Kors
Never heard about it, you probably can’t afford it
Whips all imported, passenger is gorgeous
If you ain’t talking bout money then she ignores it
It ain’t important, her nigga is a mobster
That candy red new 'Rari like a Lobster
IPad, full dash, come with every option
And that Glock 40 still got the stock clip
Me against the world, baby I’m on some Pac shit
Ballin' for Furl, and all my niggas that’s locked in
Got my baby girl everything she could dream of
Swear I fell in love when I got my lean plug…
Told you I’m getting money.
I wake up and do this shit every day man.
Young rich nigga man.
You already know bitch.
Better check a real nigga out
man
I’m a product of where I live, where I grew up is hopeless
Now the crib got a nice view of the ocean
Stack for the belt, spent two on the loafers
Left from SF and only flew into Oakland
Anybody heard «Shooters» been knew I would smoke ya
Broke down a cube then threw in a quarter
Got candy on the cougar, 450 the motor
In this rap I’m the future, name a nigga that’s doper
Got my bitch on Redbook,?
and?
Red-black paint, match the inside of the 'Maro
Got my prostitute with me, and I’m sipping on ounces
Wrist costs $ 250, I can’t even pronounce it…
Man I get tired of counting money man.
Now I’ll just weigh this shit blood.
I’m the flyest nigga you ever seen in your life bitch, so you might wanna
check a real nigga out, know what I’m saying?
40-something thousand feet, way up out the mobile zone
But I’m still on the phone and I’m blowing cones
Paper planes, we making cake
From the Bentley to that new 'Stang, got paper plates
Private stocks, property, market and real estate
Got lawyers, accountants, couple overseas banks
Managers, publishers, street team out of state
From the Bay to ATL to Philly we moving weight
It’s the real against the fake, it’s a war in this world
So I’m getting it out of state, with some boy and some girl
And I’m sending my bitch, first licks on tour
Man I’m getting long money, still want me some more…
Man I’ll never get tired of money man.
I go in every room man and I’m tripping
over the shit.
I’m trying to find a new place to put it everyday man.
Burried in the backyard, stuffed under the house… Man I got too much of this
shit.
But I wouldn’t give you shit bitch, so sit back and check a real nigga
out
Razors and dinner plates, Heckler & Koch
Cocked on the way, so much ice in the watch
I just sit and reminisce about nights on the block
With a bad rich bitch overlooking Dubai
Surprised that I survived and made it to twenty-nine
I just gotta thank God, cause most of my niggas died
Blessed to be alive, seen my daughter get big
Where I grew up, parents outliving their kids
Got a CLS Benz, DVinci Forgiato rims
Dior for my bitch, Giovanni her lens
Cause I knocked her on my own, but she brought me her friends
Now they all getting down, you should see where I live, nigga…