Re-Up Gang
Re-Up Gang - Money songtekst
Je score:
[Pusha T] (Speaking normally) Re-Up Gang... Pusha... Ab-Liva... Malice... Sandman (Yea) [Chorus] Money, Money, Money, Money, Money Gimme Some Money, Money, Money, Money, Money, Money Gimme Some [Hook: Pusha T.] Now ask yourself: do you roll with the winners? Spend Benjamins just as fast as they print 'em? Walk through the city in your thousand dollar denims? Drive foreign cars with the V-12s in 'em? [Pusha T.] Pop corks, dedicate this toast to the villains With all my niggas, all my guns, all my women Graphic year, I can see about a million All for the love of drug dealin' (uh) If the Feds grabbin' Gotti still ain't stop me I'll never stop sellin' this Whitney and Bobby (never stop) Watch so rocky, Apollo on the fist Right wrist, killin' niggas like Brago in this bitch [Ab-Liva] That McClaren I saw wit a beautiful... (ho! ) Ceiling in the trunk is touch down with the doors Louis Vutton denim, the drag don't hem 'em Euorpean cut with gold stitchin' on the emblem See I'm a go getta, mami's a gold digger A match made in Heaven, we livin' the show nigga The (hoes) wit her, look good, and them clothes fit her She love that I'm a boss, X's and O's with us The Rosea sipper that mix crack(! ) I give it to 'em, unkie sport shoes that date back Hard rubber sole, red and green where the lace at You can't hold me down like Diddy and Mace back (so take that) [Hook: Pusha T.] Now ask yourself: do you roll with the winners? Spend Benjamins just as fast as they print 'em? Walk through the city in your thousand dollar denims? Drive foreign cars with the V-12s in 'em? (Yea, yea) [Chorus] Money, Money, Money, Money, Money Gimme Some Money, Money, Money, Money, Money, Money Gimme Some [Sandman] Check the wrist for time, and all I see partying hard Colorful specks, dancin' on a disco ball And the shit goes on, I'm talkin' vicious wills Chicks wit heels, fish scales deals, I inhale still Chokin' on the potent (uh) Fade deep, dark, and wavy like the ocean (yes) Crazy how they notice, me in events You count cheese, hundred G's on my wrist Your lights flash, your like ass so she leavin' my whip Something foreign, choking, groovin', tourin' With no pen, that's how you know when you show them Real niggas shit, I let bitches brain storm Tryin' to analysis how daddy making it rain storm [Malice] I lead a horse to water, but I can't make 'em drink I chef classics, here's my Cuban link Mama want it all, even the kitchen sink But they don't never get nothin', I just let 'em think Yea... the allure for the couture South Miami Beach, Art Deco decor Par k, louis chest, bar for the floor Out the blue, mama wanna build a rapport (yes) I love what she do, she love what I can afford G-4 flights, we the only ones aboard Over the clouds, dodging the down pour But even them double R's got burners in the door [Hook: Pusha T.] Now ask yourself: do you roll with the winners? Spend Benjamins just as fast as they print 'em? Walk through the city in your thousand dollar denims? Drive foreign cars with the V-12s in 'em? (Yea, yea) [Chorus] Money, Money, Money, Money, Money Gimme Some Money, Money, Money, Money, Money, Money Gimme Some