| Twas the night before twistmas
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| And all through the house
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| We had guns and money around
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| Layin’on the couch
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| Was dressed with black jewelry this time
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| Mmmmmm, c’mon
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| Everybody want me, I created thieves
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| Why I’m almost as important as the air you breathe
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| I been through hard times, when it wasn’t enough for me Stick a weak kid’ll have you livin’in luxury
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| I’m the reason niggas sellin’drugs to fiends
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| I’m the reason Mr. Simpson got off clean
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| I’m the reason some parents gotta bury they kids
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| And I’m the reason why your cousin on the run from feds
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| I’ve been through customs, borders
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| I’ve been handled by authorities
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| Drove people crazy when they couldn’t see more of me
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| I’ve been saved, I’ve been buried alive
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| Say my name enough and any nigga testify
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| Who you think lead that whole seller ass that time
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| All by myself, I created black on black crime
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| I’m America’s most, I’m tadded up with Ghostt
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| Even my hand got big, from net to gross
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| I’m emotionless, yet I breathe jealousy and envy
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| People kill for me or die to defend me But in the end am I really worth the sun
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| Rich people make me work for them
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| And poor people work for me Who am I? |
| Nigga I’m money
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| Who am I? |
| Nigga I’m money
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| See the gun wound, went down for you
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| Who ran up in the house, duke
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| Caught one from he and for who
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| When niggas was ready to murder me You stayed up in the crib, like a bitch
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| Lookin’ill, and it’s lurkin’me (for who?)
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| I got stabbed for you
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| Yo, shot up the ass for you
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| Should stop blowin’the cabs for you (for who?)
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| Chill, some niggas called crabs for you
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| Holdin’them garbage bags for you
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| Ill, blowin them hags for you
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| I resort to evil, I don’t grow on trees
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| I’m called by different names, chips, scrilla, cream
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| And I’m always green whether dirty or clean (Wooooeeee!)
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| Gettin’ya hands on me is the American dream
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| I’m more powerful than God, or Razale
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| Cause when you pray to God nigga, you pray for me
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| I’m an exchange hand to hand, with heavy weapontry
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| This one couple fucked on me, and slept on me Up in the dice games niggas stepped on me Bet on me, couldn’t pay, bled on me
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| I enslaved populations, and controled masses
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| I come in all forms, coins, paper, plastic
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| Even credit, I owe you
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| You work for me nigga, I own you
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| If you are smart, you make me work for you
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| All ya life you try and get me and it’s hurtin’you
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| If you had a million of me, what would you do with me yo?
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| Would you blow me in a month and have nothin’to show
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| Or would you invest in me and watch me grow
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| Take me to the streets and flip me from, do’to sto’to do'
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| I underseen things I wish I hadn’t seen
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| I came between loved ones and families
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| A nigga kill his old man to get his hands on me Got secret ensciptions, examine me Wanna find me, the bank machine is where I be And showed 'em to a hundred grand, F.D.I.C.
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| I’m more notorious than the B.I.G.
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| I’m so money, who don’t wanna be like me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Money Talks , by - Sticky Fingaz. Song from the album Black Trash: The Autobiography of Kirk Jones, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп