Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Money On The Couch , by - Juvenile. Song from the album Solja Rags, in the genre R&BRelease date: 31.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cash Money
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Money On The Couch , by - Juvenile. Song from the album Solja Rags, in the genre R&BMoney On The Couch |
| I went through with the plan, now the man sendin’me grams, |
| My coke organization still infestin’the land, |
| No joke, built my Mama an estate in the Bahamas, |
| Crops of marijuana protected by Big Timers, |
| Hand, full of ice, it’s gangsta’s paradise, |
| Expensive merchandise, I had to sacrifice for the glamourous life, |
| Don P. for breakfast, Benz, stretches, and Lexus, |
| Distribution of coke from Louisiana to Texas, |
| Some fabricated, but fascinated by the way that I made it, |
| Now my name is implicated with the greatest |
| Wearin’the latest, leather fatigues and B.B.H., |
| Brand new Mercedes, parked in front of my new estate, |
| Twelve o’clock we gave him, caviar, is what we ate, |
| Party with killas, paraphrenalia full of projects, |
| Dope snorters or prospects, the rob your shop necks, |
| But I gets pissed and send hits, don’t fuck with my shit |
| Wig split, the heel, whoever he roll with, |
| Admit it, you did it, tongue too tied? |
| Well say somethin' |
| Nine’s bustin', bringin’your platoon to destruction, |
| Continue to hustlin', givin’up nothin’where the dope at? |
| Crackers can get the Bauds at, because I’m pro Black, |
| Think I’m a foreigner, he wasn’t holdin’up his side of his deal, |
| Alien gotta be killed, sent to the coroner, |
| I’m sure he would have gone before the judge |
| With somethin’concrete, to send me, cuz |
| He was holdin’a grudge, fuckin’over a thug, |
| Told my bitch I want him dead, |
| Bring me his head, fill him with lead, |
| Heard what I said? |
| Don’t betray me, |
| I’ll put you on the streets and make you weak, |
| With carrots and stones up on fingers and your teeth, |
| And built you a home next to the beach, |
| And luxury cars we creep |
| Here’s the nine, I don’t have time, make it discreet |
| Money on the couch, nigga |
| Gimme everything, I’ll pay your house, nigga |
| Shut’cha mouth, nigga |
| Put the money on the couch, nigga |
| Gimme everything, I’ll pay your house, nigga |
| Shut’cha mouth, nigga |
| Put the money on the couch shut’cha mouth, nigga |
| Second Verse: |
| I know that my cousin Lil’Kerzaw, |
| He sold up outta his backyard, |
| And sold up shit, from the seventeen all the way up to the Ninth Ward, |
| You know he rolls up in the caddy, |
| It’s about that time to go roasts and vogue, |
| I’ma go on the passenger side, fuckin’with every last hoe, |
| Nigga Russ was up in that car shop, |
| Ready to get all the seats fixed, |
| Let me go scope me a kneefit, so I can go out to the Freaknik, |
| Shit, I’m the lyrical genius, |
| Drop down on your knees to the penis, |
| The nigga be talkin’the shit about my family, but I never did seen it |
| I’m larger than large, if you came home with two heroin charges, |
| And I still got somethin’stashed in the garages, |
| Y’all is petty, it’s gone take two to fill my stamina, |
| When I pass the camera, flash, fuck the amateurs, |
| Ya better be top notch, or I’ma cock my rhyme glock, |
| To wound ya, and paint your death with my autograph on your tumor, |
| Third Verse: |
| I’m straight from the ghetto, the Mac they make the foes shake, |
| Then I left that spot and I went to the T, where the triflin’hoes play, |
| They comin’to me and, they blowin’that funky fire, |
| I’m grabbin’a beer and, them blunts be gettin’me higher, |
| Due to my clique I walked to the front door, |
| Hope it ain’t them po-po's, |
| I looked through the blinds, it went through my mind, |
| What I have to run for?, |
| Nobody would want to test me, |
| Especially comin’to arrest me, |
| Old body and soul, it’s a must I leave you cold, |
| Keep it chilly chilly, when I’m jigglin’jigglin’money, |
| Some niggas say okay, but you can say no way, |
| I’m drinkin’for honey, |
| If I wouldn’t be kickin’these rhymes so funky, |
| You and your crew would never have bought my shit like junkies, |
| A part of a ki is all that I need, |
| To get on my feet, up outta the weed, |
| The capital C, I do it for weed, and even a G for slangin’them kis, |
| I’m puttin’in it your face, Juvenile lookin’for a bitch now, |
| Don’t have no time for no foreplay, I’m simply gonna lay this dick down |
| Niggas be comin’with dope lines, |
| Gimme the chance I’ma flow mine, |
| I’m tearin’this bitch up in no time, |
| No fuckin’ya up cuz you know I’m, |
| Funky like a club that’s filled up with fat men fartin', |
| And never a bad thought in my mind, cuz I’m steadily plottin' |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| Sets Go Up | 2005 |
| Back That Azz Up ft. Lil Wayne, Mannie Fresh | 2003 |
| What's Happenin' | 2006 |
| That'll Work ft. Juvenile, Three 6 Mafia | 2009 |
| Who's Ya Daddy | 2006 |
| Back That Thang Up ft. Mannie Fresh, Lil Wayne | 2003 |
| Around the Way | 2006 |
| Slow Motion ft. Soulja Slim | 2003 |
| Keep Talkin' ft. Redd Eyezz, Skip | 2006 |
| Way I Be Leanin' ft. Mike Jones, Paul Wall, Skip | 2006 |
| Pop U ft. Fat Joe, Ludacris | 2006 |
| Sho Me Love ft. Juvenile | 2014 |
| Rock Like That ft. Bun B | 2006 |
| Salt Shaker Remix ft. Juvenile, Murphy Lee, Lil Jon | 2004 |
| Get Ya Hustle On | 2006 |
| Salt Shaker Extended Remix ft. Juvenile, Murphy Lee, Lil Jon | 2004 |
| Muscle ft. A-Trak, Lex Luger, Juvenile | 2021 |
| Why Not ft. Skip | 2006 |
| Zip It ft. Juvenile, Turk | 2013 |
| Dreams ft. Juvenile, NLE Choppa | 2019 |