Bout My Money (Clean LP Version)

Bout My Money (Clean LP Version)

Trick Daddy

[Trick Daddy]
Let's see, what to do today?
Fuck that I'm goin' to get my money

This one in a.. Thuggin' memory
That thug nigga
Hollywood nigga
I did this one in that nigga name
Hollywood nigga, y'all remember that motherfucking name

This bout that motherfucking money
Nigga!

To kill for cocaine and get a nigga killed
And a banana peel will get his whole hide flipped
He's bringin' danger to the life of his home boy's
You can see the moon, but don't let him go alone boy

Bout my money, we goin' to bump heads and it won't be long
That's why I got two choppers, one for the car, and one for the home
Got extra grip for when they hold on
Nextel, instead of these dial tones

And quarter game for these old tapped ass cell phones
And new back bone for my new dread homes
You ain't been outta jail long, but nigga you dead wrong
Bout my money, nigga you shouldn't a played wit it
You're goin' to remember the day when this A.K hit ya.

[Chorus]
Bout my money
That shit there ain't nothin' funny
Don't start duckin' and runnin' when it go to gunnin' bout my money
And sonny, don't be stuntin and lookin' funny
When I ask about my motherfucking money
That shit there ain't nothin' funny
Don't start duckin' and runnin' when it go to gunnin' bout my money
And sonny, don't be stuntin' and lookin' funny
Have my motherfucking money

[Trick Daddy]
I read in the Book of Thugs, Chapter A.K Verse 47
And it tells me all thugs niggas go to heaven
But between the lines of verses 48 and 9
Is what ya thug nigga's, drug dealin' and doin' time

But verse 100, talks bout my money
Say's its full of blood so all Memphis is funny
But nigga I don't want to hold your gold
I just want to free your soul

And be found somewhere in public when all this shit unfolds
I done gave ya two bricks, and you ain't gave me back shit
You runnin' around in your new bubble lights
When verse sit lookin' sick

I ain't here to hold you're sing, I just want my cream
And you can keep your little watch and ring that go bling bling

[Chorus]

[Trick Daddy]
Now all this huffin' and puffin
Ain't goin' to get you young fuck nigga's nothin'
But a shit bag and bullet holes through your bloody clothes
Out of all the nigga's you motherfucking know

I should have been the last nigga you want to motherfucking know
I'll meet ya at your front door, and I'm bringin' my calico
Nigga if you ain't got my flow you're ass gotta go
We'll get you mammy and all and layin' em down on the front room floor

Bout to do em all 'cause I done have problems bout all this shit unfolden
Bout my money, I came at it, and your son ain't have it
Now this nigga I owe is goin' to be the next nigga to go
I only got 20 G's, and I owe 'em 84

It ain't my motherfucking fault, I'm short bout 64
This nigga ain't goin' to fuck me no more

[Trick Daddy Talking]
[Chorus]

Written by Duggins, Adam Ernest / Young, Maurice
Published by Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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