Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Money, Weed, Blow, artist - French Montana. Date of issue: 19.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Money, Weed, Blow |
| Money money weed blow pimpin' pimpin' lots of hoes |
| Money money weed blow pimpin' pimpin' lots of hoes |
| Money money weed blow pimpin' pimpin' lots of hoes |
| Money money weed blow pimpin' pimpin' lots of hoes |
| When my niggas come get you |
| Ain’t nobody run with you |
| I hit you with the chopper fix yo ass proper |
| Cali on the roll, hustlin' in the cold |
| Pockets full of stacks and a trunk full of o’s |
| We the hottest niggas out, boxing niggas out |
| Fuck all the paint, light up the thang |
| Lemme get you in the mood |
| Get you in the groove |
| Does it all the time, do it from the ground |
| Fuck you think, fishing the tank |
| Everybody watching, hustle non stop |
| Cocaine Mafia, 4−5th pop ya |
| Think you out ya mind, I’ll put ya mind out ya |
| Got me on my side with pills and lean |
| Glock 10 shots, and a fucking beam |
| Purple lambo, smoking a Rambo |
| Take my chances, life’s a gamble |
| Low in my ammo, looking for the payback |
| I know you bitch niggas since way back |
| Fill up my need, fill up arenas |
| All mixtapes, we bury niggas you think |
| Johny Hancock filling up the blank |
| Two headshots blood in yo mink |
| Montana juice hard as a tank |
| These other rap niggas ain’t hard as you think |
| Who that, who that riding in the street |
| Riding in a silver phantom |
| Who that, who that guap on the weed |
| Other drug dealers can’t stand him |
| Who that, who that be in the club |
| Throwing down lots of money |
| Who that, who that be on the ground |
| Probably tryna get this money |
| This nigga is too real |
| Stay high and pop pills |
| Hell yea I’m cocky |
| Cuz I don’t grow meals |
| I turned out many hoes |
| I turned out many shows |
| I did what you tryna do |
| I done fucked yo momma to |
| A lot of these niggas be hating on me |
| And the girlfriends be waving on me |
| They see me still getting these racks and cheese |
| Ain’t no nigga |
| We own everything that’s in the lot |
| I’m dealing cash I don’t |
| I’ma take you somewhere homie where I own the lot |
| I’m with my niggas out the north side, In Memphis we cool though |
| Hanging out in the traps with real killas slanging good dough |
| Robbery can get done |
| I just need a reason |
| They paying me my foils boy |
| Now that’s good reason |
| Or straight suicide, Now I gotta tax that ass |
| 40 barrel to his head, pay me up or we crack yo cast |
| I’m just trying to advance |
| Caught a nigga slippin', shot his ass for a whole brick |
| Gotta go quick, cuz this here could be my last shot |
| I’m fucked in yo spot with the guns pouring masks out |
| But a lick for a brick |
| Like a nut with no jag on |
| Or a junkie glass pipin' out bout to blast off |