All About the Money

I don't want to leave with you bitches
Rather smoke weed
With the team making riches
I don't talk to fucking snitches
Fuck all that bullshit
They all go in ditches
I'm about to fucking prove it
Ruthless with my fucking Glock
Finger on the trigger
I don't care if its a cop
I don't care who all they brought
The army or the swat
I been staying gangster since fucking day one
Since they told me I was wrong
For trying to make a song
Now I'm going to the top
With a lighter and a bong
Ima do it for my son
Ima do it for my daughter
Make my money long
Kus you know I'm a baller
Make yo bitch holler for a quick dollar
They wanna know the name
You can call me shot caller
In the rap game you can say I'm your father
Fool I just slaughtered you out the way
Shoutout to the real
And a fuck you to the lame
For the ones packing steel
Grinding hard everyday
Got to keep my money straight
Man fuck what they say

Bout to put it down
For the ones that ain't around
For the ones who hold it down
And the ones in the crowd
Who be mobbing they fucking heads
Well thanks once again
From this throwed Mexican
Well they told me that I cant
And they told me that I couldn't
They wanna shake my hand
Wanna know how I do it
Rep it to the fullest
Always leave them clueless
They always wanna prove it
Marijuana blooming
Cigarillos blowing
Money it be growing
Ima stay fucking flowing
For my motherfucking G's
I don't give a fuck
If you haven't heard about me
Ima keep it low key straight out VIP
In the studio slamming drinks
What you know about me
What you know about the team
In a boat chasing dreams
For my kids buying things
One message left
All ABOUT THE MONEY



Credits
Writer(s): Marcos Quintero
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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