Money Songtext

[Verse 1]
The biggest fast time is rhyme the size crime
Its been the same man since the game became mine
I spot four one of these at the same time
Looking like Snoop Dogg back in eighty-nine
Do I give a fuck, no I never have
I just blow my weed and take a bubble bath
I laugh at these niggaz, I aint mad at you niggaz
Cause half of you niggaz cant even fuck with me
I'm on it cause I'm so fucking city
And every town that I roll through I leave my G prints
LBC, now that's what I represent, can ya feel it (Eastside)
I'm hotter than a batch of fish grease in a skillet
I wanna say what up to all the G's, the killas, and the ballers, and the dealers
See where I'm from you either rate us, hate us or steal us
And right about now all the cap peelers gotta feel us

[Chorus with slight variations repeat 2 X]

[Verse 2] Money, money is everything
It's the crack to the fiend
It's the king to the queen
It reigns supreme
It's the crop to the cream (say what)
It's a po man, no man, its everybodys dream
Money, mo money, get money
But make sure you know that your folks don't get funny
Everybody claiming that they down on they luck
While I'm fresh dressed like a million bucks
I throw on my black socks with my all gold chucks
Now lets see which one of my trucks we gone use today
To slide away, (where we going) to Snoop World mother fucking U.S.A
Its all a dream, and dreams can come true
If it happen for me, shit it can happen for you
Meech from the beach, he keep shit cracking
And everything he touch guaranteed to go platinum

[Chorus with slight variations repeat 2 X]

[Verse 3]
Ya got to have cash to make it these days
And you can make at least one of a hundred different ways
You can holler at the homie Meech and get a dope track
And write you a rap, and try to get you to snap
Or you could stand on the streets and holler and wine
You can throw up insane, twenty crip or one nine
I chose DP cause financially money money money that's all a nigga see
See to get it, is to have it, interstate, maintain, don't get broke and fail the game
You might catch me in Brooklyn man hanging out with my sons and god sons, cause it's a blood thing
Or you can catch me in Oakland, or I might be on my way back to the west coast
Still smoking, with a pound of that shit
Waiting for me at the crib with my dogs my wife and my two kids, getting money

[Chorus with slight variations repeat 5 X]

[Ad libs over chorus]
For all the niggaz out there getting their money
Money is the root of all evil huh
You know what
I mean, we already living in hell
So fuck, get your money man
I look at shit like this:
The mother fuckers that don't got money, they doing bad
and they don't give a fuck and they rob they steal they kill
And the mother fuckers that got money, they depressed
you know they can't enjoy it
So I mean, whats your pleasure
you wanna live with it our without it, shit I'm bout it
I got to have it, you feel me

[Chorus with slight variations repeat 5 X]