Obie Trice

Obie Trice - Gimme The Money lyrics

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You got money

For you to come out, it's best

I pack a gat the size of a rat in south west

When I get low

I get dough

So it's nothin' for you to pass me and get broke

I been like this

Since the lickle youth

Stickin' cats for better major Skittles, too

Now Or Later's, Jolly Rangers and Charlie Juice

What can I say, dog, I had the sweetest tooth

In middle school, ain't shit changed but the vics

Sock a nigga in his lips and take his kicks

Shit

Ain't this a bitch, they don't fit

Fuck it

I sell 'em quick, to get the chips

At high school

Things got hella proper

I stop hittin' cats and start hittin' their lockers

I got purses and wallets for my big pockets

Bitch, shut the fuck up and give me the watches





When that nigga get hungry

You, gimme the money

Bitch, gimme the money

You, gimme the money

When I can't get high

You, gimme the money

Bitch, gimme the money

You, gimme the money

When I can't pay the rent

Bitch, gimme the money

You, gimme the money

Bitch, gimme the money

When the shit's gettin' thick

You, gimme the money

Bitch, gimme the money (Nigga)

You, gimme the money (Bitch)





When I'm starvin' and the dough get low

And my daughter

Kobe gotta eat, I be more go in the street

Lookin' for victims, strapped with their heat

You wet the payphone

Your scrap's gone

With me

Tried to run

Popped in the knee

I'm popular for poppin' up on niggas when my pocket's on

E, pistol point

Person and a purse

"Just don't kill me, I got two children"

I can't front

I might snatch the shit

That you probably don't want

Run at two

My daughter Kobe, she two

And I ain't got a job

So why would you ask me when I'm robbing you, fuck you

By all means nec'sy

Get outta line while I'm stickin'

The shit right there get's messy

Caliber heavy

Ready to bust, nigga

Run 'em jewels, or your dick's in the dust (Motherfucker)









I'm a starvin' artist, my cho, do-do

I stick gats for chains like them cats, they guru

Bitch, gimme the money, pullin' their gat from the back

We gaffle and cap, won't be raffled to strap

We travel in packs, might see us comin' the day

You better tuck in your chain when you see us coming your way

My pockets are hurtin'

Plus I'm tired of workin'

But nowadays, a J-O-B just ain't workin'

You trade blocks to get hot

Cause if you got

Dog, gimme the glock, you just got got

I drink too much and the weed be talkin'

Dog get jacked by a cat from New Boston

My habit is costin'

Twenty dollars a fix

I own

So what you have gone get me out of this shit

From tents to cables

To gems

I'm Hardcore

Detriot nigga that'll stick Lil' Kim









I'm on one









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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

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Language: English

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