(feat. Trey Songz)




[Fat Joe - Verse 1]

Wrist on froze, thanks to the stove;

Mattress financial, bank's never closed;

Monday to Sunday, serve all addicts;

Joey Van Gundy, watch me work the Magic;

Aah, and I ain't talkin' NBA;

I ain't even trust the brethren, jealous ones still envy me;

Problem is, these guys ain't even half what they pretend to be;

Cold Don, now look at all the shots that they keep sendin' me;

And your girl the best, she fulfillin' all my fantasies;

She drip, drip, drippin' all up in the Drophead Phantom seats;

Now pop your bottles, blow your cush, fuck what your man say;

'Cause you know we don't give a fuck, we let the pan play...



[Trey Songz - Chorus]

If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?

(And tell her that) money's all that's on my mind...

You can believe that, I'll be where the cheese at;

Wrist on froze, better get your hoe;

Pocket full of paper, so these haters can't stand me;

Ballin' like the Lakers, keep heat like Miami,

And she killin' in them jeans, "Baby, won't you take 'em off for me?"

She said she a boss, she ain't talkin'

If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?



[Fat Joe - Verse 2]

Neck on froze, thanks to the hoes;

Pussy never plummet, pimp 'til I'm gone;

Powder white work, let's get this shit poppin';

And fuck the police, like them niggaz out in Compton;

Aah, we too fly for our own good;

And you can see the sky shinin' on the chrome hood;

And you can smell that money right off the Lou Vuitton;

Self-made millionaire right from the Bronx;

On my way to Cali, Kobe, he playin' LeBron;

Drop 50 stacks, tell my niggaz "Pay the bar";

Stop trippin', that pussy got a nigga hard;

And the Am-Ex card, blacker than my nigga 'Kon...



[Trey Songz - Chorus]

If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?

(And tell her that) money's all that's on my mind...

You can believe that, I'll be where the cheese at;

Wrist on froze, better get your hoe;

Pocket full of paper, so these haters can't stand me;

Ballin' like the Lakers, keep heat like Miami,

And she killin' in them jeans, "Baby, won't you take 'em off for me?"

She said she a boss, she ain't talkin'

If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?

You can believe that, I'll be where the cheese at;

Wrist on froze, better get your hoe;

Pocket full of paper, so these haters can't stand me;

Ballin' like the Lakers, keep heat like Miami,

And she killin' in them jeans, "Baby, won't you take 'em off for me?"

She said she a boss, she ain't talkin'

If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?