Action Bronson, 1982 - Money is Reality lyrics
Action Bronson [Ariyan Arslani] Queens, NY, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Action Bronson, 1982 - Money is Reality lyrics]
Respect the mustache
My people lust cash and puff the cut grass
Of spite, known to let a nut fly
Right in your slut mask
Ring of fire full I step
Inside fishing to cut glass
Tongue poll shaking pillars
You're like a steak a sizzler
I'm like a lunch with no boo
Dip with the whole crew
Cause false moves get your whole
Face smothered like soul food
Right by the waist I got the Pro Tool
It's simply logic
Produce this hard dick in seconds
Make your bitch massage it
You're like a forty dollar
Holler from Guadalajara
Gushing to scamma motherfucker's
Ain't promised tomorrow
Badges of honor on the chest the
Flesh got wounds in it
Got inmates with assholes that
Got balloons in it
Versace blue jeans 98 the scent of me
Now the scent of me be
Primarily the scent of tree
Fucking feedback, play me feed back
Before I shoot you, shorty take the charge
Steve Nash
Don't interrupt me I'll silly putty
You for the money red sauce
Calamari you with the feeling's funny
I'm dealing twenties killing forties
By the oz my brain is scattered like
I been swallowing OCs beantown to Queens
You hear the rounds and screams
Where they pat down your jeans
Take your money and your trees
The diamond rocker devouring vodka
Shrimp and lobster
Pop you and turn you into pasta
Papa look in my cara
The flow's furious, so serious cold killers
Who rip shit, spit sick, and stole millions
Hit em with lead and then men'll
Run in your grandma house clear it out
Steal everything in it but the couch
Term Brady and Action Sanchez
Stacks of fair bread, clap and peel wigs
The type of feeling I get
When I write a rhyme
Is the violentest blood-infested killing
Of all time i'm a beast
My people lust cash and puff the cut grass
Of spite, known to let a nut fly
Right in your slut mask
Ring of fire full I step
Inside fishing to cut glass
Tongue poll shaking pillars
You're like a steak a sizzler
I'm like a lunch with no boo
Dip with the whole crew
Cause false moves get your whole
Face smothered like soul food
Right by the waist I got the Pro Tool
It's simply logic
Produce this hard dick in seconds
Make your bitch massage it
You're like a forty dollar
Holler from Guadalajara
Gushing to scamma motherfucker's
Ain't promised tomorrow
Badges of honor on the chest the
Flesh got wounds in it
Got inmates with assholes that
Got balloons in it
Versace blue jeans 98 the scent of me
Now the scent of me be
Primarily the scent of tree
Fucking feedback, play me feed back
Before I shoot you, shorty take the charge
Steve Nash
Don't interrupt me I'll silly putty
You for the money red sauce
Calamari you with the feeling's funny
I'm dealing twenties killing forties
By the oz my brain is scattered like
I been swallowing OCs beantown to Queens
You hear the rounds and screams
Where they pat down your jeans
Take your money and your trees
The diamond rocker devouring vodka
Shrimp and lobster
Pop you and turn you into pasta
Papa look in my cara
The flow's furious, so serious cold killers
Who rip shit, spit sick, and stole millions
Hit em with lead and then men'll
Run in your grandma house clear it out
Steal everything in it but the couch
Term Brady and Action Sanchez
Stacks of fair bread, clap and peel wigs
The type of feeling I get
When I write a rhyme
Is the violentest blood-infested killing
Of all time i'm a beast