Get Money lyrics

[Intro: RMC Mike]
Ayy, yeah, huh
n*gga, what?
(Ooh, Sav killed it)
sh*t, Sav, that's what you on?
Alright, look, ayy

[Chorus: RMC Mike]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (Hey, alright)

[Verse 1: RMC Mike]
n*gga see my bank account, he'd probably f*ckin' faint
Brought a hundred out in cash, didn't even touch the bank
Bae, I got so many plays to make, can't even f*ck today
Started from the bottom, but best believe a n*gga up today
Like my brother Ri, I got some big hips, sh*t, I could tuck a K
If you see me doin' some sh*t I'm not supposed to, look the other way
Gettin' off with this rap sh*t, I put the dope away
f*ckin' on a bad b*tch and her pus*y tastе like Ocean Spray
Every b*tch I know just want a gеt-money n*gga
I'm a boss n*gga first, kit an easy one-fifty
Lean-head, what I spent on drank another one-sixty
Got 300K in cash, n*ggas can't even f*ck with me
[Verse 2: Trench Lord]
Trench
I keep bread on the floor like a picnic
My gun got a switch on it like a thick b*tch
I pour up drank all day, I like to sip-sip
Baggin' coke got my nails white like French tips
Closet full of bands, it's startin' to feel like a bank in there
Pockets on Aretha, you can tell I got Franklins there
My son tried to drink some of my pop, it was drank in there
Bust a bale down in the kitchen, now it stank in there
Runnin' up them racks whether I scam or I sell dope
It don't come inside a red can, but I sell coke
Make the dope lock, add water like a sailboat
I'd rather get money and f*ck b*tches what I tell folks

[Chorus: RMC Mike & Velly Beretta]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (Ayy, ayy, alright)

[Verse 3: Velly Beretta & King Ca$hes]
f*ck b*tches, get the money, and repeat (Yeah)
Any n*gga really hate me sick I'm f*ckin' his freak (Ayy)
It's a couple of 'em really, I'm sick of f*ckin' 'em each
I'm sick of playin' it cool, who really f*ckin' with me? Nobody (Who f*ckin' with me?)
Huh, I'm fresh as hell with a roll on me (Yeah)
Pullin' up and jumpin' out anywhere with the pole on me (Bah)
Welcomin' the smoke, I ain't scared of n*ggas, nope (No)
I ain't tellin' n*ggas joke (No), n*ggas petty and they broke (Yeah)
Fourth quarter, every bucket, every play important (It's important)
I'm from the trenches, it's a jungle, every day a stormin' (Stormin')
I can't help them, they ain't no junkies, damn, they informants (Damn)
R.I.P. Nip, I'm on my hustle, man, Tracy Morgan (Woo, King), Velly
[Verse 4: King Ca$hes]
Already did the Overland, I need the Wagoneer
Light brown, spent enough time with the Cavaliers
Baby girl see I'm turnt now, say I'm actin' weird
Naw, I'm just straight and I don't know why you standin' here
New b*tch, she top shelf, I need the baddest here
Tell her she got pus*y and I want it, baby, hand it here
Neiman shoe walker, everything be a stack a pair
Stayed so far out the way, a n*gga been done smacked a deer
If you wanna make a statement, n*gga, make a payment
I been up, I been down, so I ain't complainin'
Dropped an EP and sold a 'bow out the paper station
Top five Flint in all time, but n*ggas hate to say it, King

[Chorus: RMC Mike & KrispyLife Kidd]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (Alright, alright, KrispyLife)

[Verse 5: KrispyLife Kidd]
Ridin' 'round with the newest K, tryna start a war
Get a n*gga whacked fast, I know the art of war
Ain't got time for no pus*y, got a five on court
Drop a hundred at your Speedway, I left shells on floor
Huh, when I get up in this b*tch, it be scary hours
If I rain on a n*gga block, that's a scary shower
p*ss me off and we'll slide every hour
n*ggas know better, load that hundred up and go and drop a dollar
b*tch, they known for sh*t talkin' and homicides
Put holes in that old-ass engine, how the Impala ride?
My n*gga own a Pillway, yeah, I'm proud of Rod
I f*cked the world up real bad, I get idolized
[Verse 6: Babyfxce E]
In four months and thirty-one days, I was monetized
I passed some big dogs in the game, I apologize
Golden child, you would think you was lookin' from my mama eyes
Two Dracs, a fifty with a switch'll leave you traumatized
I mean handicapped
Put a pocket in his chest like a fanny pack
Seventy-year-old titties on the Glock, I'm bringin' grannies back
Buy a glass house, crib on the lake, I'm bringin' Danny back, n*gga

[Chorus: RMC Mike]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (Hey, alright)