Brinx, Busta Rhymes - Mind on My Money lyrics
[Brinx, Busta Rhymes - Mind on My Money lyrics]
I got my mind on my money
And I'm not going away
So keep on getting your paper
Now behold it's your excellence
CITCO, forward slash president
East side resident, it's oh so evident
Brinx Billy ride cousin, black
On black phantom, 26's on the side of em
Ninas on the side of em
Goonies on the side of em
Anybody get it boy be careful
On the side of them
These niggas'll bury you, guns, no serial
Money hungry honey with me when they
Holla she gonna carry you
Flyer than a aеrial, vehicle, gerital
Sitting on my feet whеn I'm
Stuntin on them people
I tell no fables everything tailored
Fax machines, Office Max
See me for that paper
You working with short bread
Ain't my money long youngin'
Bitch I'm bout trappin
More digit's than a phone number
Different time zones on em
Kill them niggas lyrically
Left side of my closet, look invaded by Italy
Right side Paris, left side flagging
Paper is my main chick, me and money married
And that's all a nigga know bitch
That's why these brand new niggas
On my old shit
Ayo I speak foreign languages
And shit but the
Language I speak is that money language
(laughs) flipmode bitch
Brinx I like how we do the brinx
Truck job on these niggas homey
Time after time again I like niggas and
Remind niggas how I hold out on motherfuckers
Niggas out here fronting about they
Bread you can't trust it, nigga
My money so stupid, call
Me Warren Busta Buss, nigga
Glad it ain't a toss and
Everything about me butters
I've been counting money so Long I
See dollar signs and different colors
My money is smear and smothered your
Money you hear me brother
Been about that bread like I was
Broke or still in the gutter
And in case you ain't know
There will be no replacement
And them bags of Arab Money I
Got stashed in the basement
Face it, whenever I shine, I
Glisten, and whenever I talk, you listen
Ain't no money getting made in
These streets without my permission
I keeps it drug-infested
My money is well connected
It's to the point my
Conglomerate is well-respected
You need to check my method
I promise you I be the
Wrong nigga when it comes
To my money that you ever want to mess with
Grind like missionary labor
Holding dignitary paper
You already know my team
Is filled with consiglieres, we made you
I don't give a fuck about your stipulation
Type of bread appropriate for every situation
You can tell by the jewelry
Sitting on my collar
From the bread to the crib
I know all about the dollar
And I'm not going away
So keep on getting your paper
Now behold it's your excellence
CITCO, forward slash president
East side resident, it's oh so evident
Brinx Billy ride cousin, black
On black phantom, 26's on the side of em
Ninas on the side of em
Goonies on the side of em
Anybody get it boy be careful
On the side of them
These niggas'll bury you, guns, no serial
Money hungry honey with me when they
Holla she gonna carry you
Flyer than a aеrial, vehicle, gerital
Sitting on my feet whеn I'm
Stuntin on them people
I tell no fables everything tailored
Fax machines, Office Max
See me for that paper
You working with short bread
Ain't my money long youngin'
Bitch I'm bout trappin
More digit's than a phone number
Different time zones on em
Kill them niggas lyrically
Left side of my closet, look invaded by Italy
Right side Paris, left side flagging
Paper is my main chick, me and money married
And that's all a nigga know bitch
That's why these brand new niggas
On my old shit
Ayo I speak foreign languages
And shit but the
Language I speak is that money language
(laughs) flipmode bitch
Brinx I like how we do the brinx
Truck job on these niggas homey
Time after time again I like niggas and
Remind niggas how I hold out on motherfuckers
Niggas out here fronting about they
Bread you can't trust it, nigga
My money so stupid, call
Me Warren Busta Buss, nigga
Glad it ain't a toss and
Everything about me butters
I've been counting money so Long I
See dollar signs and different colors
My money is smear and smothered your
Money you hear me brother
Been about that bread like I was
Broke or still in the gutter
And in case you ain't know
There will be no replacement
And them bags of Arab Money I
Got stashed in the basement
Face it, whenever I shine, I
Glisten, and whenever I talk, you listen
Ain't no money getting made in
These streets without my permission
I keeps it drug-infested
My money is well connected
It's to the point my
Conglomerate is well-respected
You need to check my method
I promise you I be the
Wrong nigga when it comes
To my money that you ever want to mess with
Grind like missionary labor
Holding dignitary paper
You already know my team
Is filled with consiglieres, we made you
I don't give a fuck about your stipulation
Type of bread appropriate for every situation
You can tell by the jewelry
Sitting on my collar
From the bread to the crib
I know all about the dollar