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Get Money

Fuck bitches, get money, fuck niggas, get money

Fuck bitches, get money, fuck niggas, get money

Fuck bitches, get money, fuck niggas, get money

You want to sip Mo' on my living room flo'

Play Nintendo with Cease-a-Leo

Pick up my phone say, "Poppa not home"

Sex all night, mad head in the morn'

Spin my V, smoke all my weed

Tattoo on titty sayin' B-I-G, now check it

You want to be my main squeeze, baby

Don't cha, you want to gimme what I need, baby

Won't cha, picture life as my wife, just think

Full length mink, fat X and O links

Bracelets to match, conversation was all that

Showed you the safe combinations and all that

Guess you could say you's the one I trusted

Who would ever think that you would spread like mustard?

Shit got hot, you sent Feds to my spot

Took me to court, tried to take all I got

'Nother intricate plot, the bitch said I raped her

"Damn, why she want to stick me for my paper?"

My Mo-sci-no ho, my Ver-sa-ce hottie

Come to find out, you was fuckin' everybody

You knew about me, the fake ID

Cases in Virginia, body in D.C.

Woe, oh is me, that's what I get for trickin'

Pay my own bail, commence to ass kickin'

Kick in the door, wavin' the four-four

All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more"

Disrespect my clique, my shit's imperial

Fuck around and made her milk box material

You feel me? Suckin' dick, runnin' your lips

'Cause of you, I'm on some real fuck a bitch shit, uh

Fuck bitches, get money

Fuck niggas, get money

Fuck bitches, get money

Fuck niggas, get money

Fuck bitches, get money

Fuck niggas, get money

Fuck bitches, get money

Fuck niggas, get money

niggas betta grab a seat

Grab on your dick as this bitch gets deep

Deeper than the pussy of a bitch six feet

Stiff dicks feel sweet in this little petite

Young bitch from the street, guaranteed to stay down

Used to bring work outta town on Greyhound

Now I'm Billboard now, niggas press to hit it

Play me like a chicken, thinkin' I'm pressed to get it

Rather do the killin' than the stick up jooks

Rather count a million while you eat my pussy

Push me to the limit, get my feelings in it

Get me open while I'm cummin' down your throat

Then, you want to be my main squeeze, nigga

Don't cha, you want to lick between my knees, nigga

Don't cha want to see me whippin' your three down the Ave.

Blow up spots on bitches because I'm mad

Break up affairs, lick shots in the air

You get vexed, and start swingin' everywhere

Me shifty? Now you want to pistol whip me

Pull out your nine while I cock on mine

Yeah, what, nigga? I ain't got time for this

So what, nigga? I'm not tryin' to hear that shit

Now you want to buy me diamonds and Armani suits

Adia Vinadini and Chanel lime boots

Things that make up for all the games and the lies

Hallmark cards sayin', "I apologize"

Is you wit' me? How could you ever deceive me

But payback's a bitch, motherfucker, believe me

Naw, I ain't gay, this ain't no lesbo flow

Just a lil' somethin' to let you motherfuckers know

Fuck bitches, get money, fuck niggas, get money

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Lyrics powered by lyrics.tancode.com

written by Wallace, Christopher / Ayers, Roy / Bedford, James / Striplin, Sylvia Denise / Jones, Kimberly

Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., JAMES BEDFORD D/B/A SKILLET MUSIC, CHRYSALIS MUSIC GROUP

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