Me & Money

Uh
$avage!
Let's get it

Just me and the money it was me and you
I was counting paper counting green and blue

Just me and the money it was me and you
I was counting paper, green and blue

You say you got the loud but that shit hella quiet
I don't gotta see it by the smell could tell I'll never buy it
Niggas acting tough don't test yo luck I get you touched like midas
Counting all these bands feel like my hands is getting authoritus

Put a bag up on my neck won't break a sweat my body froze like custard
I let her push the range she playing games bitch this ain't Dave and Busters
I call my shooter Steph, but he ain't shooting jumpers
See it in my eyes I'm gettin high as JR Smith and Shumpert

I ain't passing shit you could call me kobe
If I can't get him wacked I get the Mac and then I wack his homie
Stomach full of ack, gettin racks, pockets macaroni
And yes I have to tax you for the pack cause you are not the Brodie

Think you gon hoe me bitch You got me twisted up
I send my bitch to get the brick cause ion give a fuck
Slide with the pistol on my hip to pick some chicken up
I heard yo shit it wasn't hitting nigga give it up

I got tired of the dodge I need a lambroghini
Pistol on my lap and that's No cap we on his head like beanies
Now I'm next she wish she never left but I am not a genie
I hit yo bitch then do a trick and disappear just like I'm Houdini

I uh sell the load before I even get it
My nigga who be scamming wanted 3 he paid it all with credit
I was noddin off the lean and off a bean I need a paramedic
I'm black and Mexican last of a dying breed I'm having rare genetics

Turn him to Indian I put a red dot on his head
Had to get the beam he coulda gave me all my bread instead
Don't ask me where I get, acting like a fed
Ask too many questions you ain't gettin shit but left on red

I put onMcQueens with purple jeans while wearing bathing ape
Got just what you need and $avage serving everything but plates
Y'all be making memes, I be making cake
Most these rappers fiends and off the beans they prolly leave you laced

You not really turnt you be off the fent
Everything designer to the toes my shirt could pay yo rent
I could get him lost then ask them where he went
Think they got the text but not the message I could get you sent

Bitch!
$avage!



Credits
Writer(s): Randy Traylor
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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