Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Money On The Couch, artist - Juvenile. Album song Solja Rags, in the genre R&B
Date of issue: 31.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cash Money
Song language: English
Money 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' |