Young Buck, 50 Cent, Troy Ave - Drug Money lyrics
Young Buck [David Darnell Brown] ashville, Tennessee, U.S. 🇺🇸
50 Cent [Curtis James Jackson III]
[Young Buck, 50 Cent, Troy Ave - Drug Money lyrics]
These niggas must not be cooking no coke
They ain't cooking they just
Frontin' you heard
These bitches must be used to being broke
Hand on the bible I'mma man of my word
Well I got yayo for sale
I got kush for smoke
I ain't said no shit, I'mma push the dope
Money, hoes and clothes
I'm talking bout the good life
So now you know what drug money look like
Miracle whip it
Spreadin' the coke over the bread
Keep the Dr dre knife with me
To poke you in the head
I let my white girl sniff it
It made her open up her legs
My nigga Rudolph snowed it until
It's nose turned red a damn shame
I'm the reason you can't find your vein
If your daddy stealin' out
Your momma's purse, i'm to blame
Tryna get that i8 but I gotta find the name
I ain't got no credit, I just got cocaine
I mean these niggas was like
He's paying car notes
Your wrist don't twist
That's the reason you are broke
You playin' with the powder
You niggas is all jokes
C'mon dog your never gonna meet Carlos
I'm plug for real, I'm tryna feed ya'll coast
I don't believe your pictures nigga
Or read ya'll post
Your body language telling me you're broke
And plus Obama bout to go
I got my momma weighing up the dope
Niggas know what drug money look like
All my jewels shine
Nigga I don't need good light
All my bitches bad but my foreign a good type
S-Class bands but my Porsche
Had the hood like
That nigga rich, that nigga gets
Money motherfucker
He started with selling bricks
Well add a little extra
Compress it to get the chips
But he stay wise, still lays on his Vicks
The boy hide his grit's
The boy pot ain't grit's
Might use a microwave if I'm
Tryna do it quick
Tryna clock the yay and the fork
That's water whipped
And sit in on the paps, dry it
I lose a pinch
But what the fuck is the point
When you're dealing with joints boy
Whole birds, covert with us, so no choice
Chillin' in the jail, rappin' to my brazil
I done chill so people won't tell
When I say I'm back for spot
I'm in the number one slot bitch
Lights and the cubans that will
Fuck up your optics
I'm raw like sushi, eat the pussy
You chop stick
Niggas go wood, honey, I'm home in the hood
There's no need to test
This pure coke go get it gone
F&N in the palm, extendo in the jaw
You say you bout that bullshit
Well come and get what you want
You niggas lookin' malnutritioned
100 knots in the yacht
Skate across the Pacific
Sposed to be out the loop
Funny how I don't miss shit
It's all addin' up
These niggas here on some sucker shit
The type niggas when money come
I ain't fuckin' with
Now let's play, let's make a deal
I'll show up with the money and
Tell you who to kill
Now you say you get busy for real
Put niggas in the church
I pay you with the work
They ain't cooking they just
Frontin' you heard
These bitches must be used to being broke
Hand on the bible I'mma man of my word
Well I got yayo for sale
I got kush for smoke
I ain't said no shit, I'mma push the dope
Money, hoes and clothes
I'm talking bout the good life
So now you know what drug money look like
Miracle whip it
Spreadin' the coke over the bread
Keep the Dr dre knife with me
To poke you in the head
I let my white girl sniff it
It made her open up her legs
My nigga Rudolph snowed it until
It's nose turned red a damn shame
I'm the reason you can't find your vein
If your daddy stealin' out
Your momma's purse, i'm to blame
Tryna get that i8 but I gotta find the name
I ain't got no credit, I just got cocaine
I mean these niggas was like
He's paying car notes
Your wrist don't twist
That's the reason you are broke
You playin' with the powder
You niggas is all jokes
C'mon dog your never gonna meet Carlos
I'm plug for real, I'm tryna feed ya'll coast
I don't believe your pictures nigga
Or read ya'll post
Your body language telling me you're broke
And plus Obama bout to go
I got my momma weighing up the dope
Niggas know what drug money look like
All my jewels shine
Nigga I don't need good light
All my bitches bad but my foreign a good type
S-Class bands but my Porsche
Had the hood like
That nigga rich, that nigga gets
Money motherfucker
He started with selling bricks
Well add a little extra
Compress it to get the chips
But he stay wise, still lays on his Vicks
The boy hide his grit's
The boy pot ain't grit's
Might use a microwave if I'm
Tryna do it quick
Tryna clock the yay and the fork
That's water whipped
And sit in on the paps, dry it
I lose a pinch
But what the fuck is the point
When you're dealing with joints boy
Whole birds, covert with us, so no choice
Chillin' in the jail, rappin' to my brazil
I done chill so people won't tell
When I say I'm back for spot
I'm in the number one slot bitch
Lights and the cubans that will
Fuck up your optics
I'm raw like sushi, eat the pussy
You chop stick
Niggas go wood, honey, I'm home in the hood
There's no need to test
This pure coke go get it gone
F&N in the palm, extendo in the jaw
You say you bout that bullshit
Well come and get what you want
You niggas lookin' malnutritioned
100 knots in the yacht
Skate across the Pacific
Sposed to be out the loop
Funny how I don't miss shit
It's all addin' up
These niggas here on some sucker shit
The type niggas when money come
I ain't fuckin' with
Now let's play, let's make a deal
I'll show up with the money and
Tell you who to kill
Now you say you get busy for real
Put niggas in the church
I pay you with the work