body count ensued Flowers and bodies pile up in ash and memory While your freedom is raped by gunfire Send in the masses, send in the coroner Flesh and
the body count ensued Bodies and flowers pile up in ash and money While your freedom is raped by gunfire Send in the masses, send in the coroner Flesh and
small huddle Time to make money and more trouble And we all hungry and all hustle And we all humble, but together we got more muscle And we got dough, nigga me and
the monster shoe Young Money is the Rasta and a monster crew And I'm all up, all up, all up in the bank with a funny face And if I'm fake, I ain't notice
But that's rap money, to trappin' that's nothin' I'm internet surfin', to a gorrilla in the turfin' Speedboat racin', jet skiin' and golfin' Crazy color jordans, same color
blood up in it Listen, fam, the Lam's the color of toast The seats is like butter in it No hammers in the club, box cutter in it Long money and big checks
eyes ho. And yeah I do numbers, except five-0. And I'll be with my zoe, we call him Brisco. And Youngin got the beat poppin like Crisco. And Weezy got
Make ya girl get Barry Manilow in this bitch, In the body of the World, money is the blood, And everyday I be back and forward to the blood bank, Uhh
's momma, son Lookin' for the bitch who took the money and run Now the daylight's gone and there's no more fun And who's the fuckin' bitch who stole all
Motherfucker please, it's my block with my rocks Fuck that hip-hop, them one-two's and you don't stops Me and my nigga Lance, took Kim and Cee's advance
Baby Bam ] Now the brothers be doggin The sisters be hoggin They're playin with the fire, and they're gonna get burnt Word up Smokin and puffin and sniffin and
The streets is talkin' Sayin Dre done changed And he aint been to the hood, well how the fuck i find game? I studied this rap shit, still a hundred miles and
s chase cheese and shake busters Cut for one another motherfuckin' color We quick to bring it, but ain't got time for the drama I'm all about stackin' dollaz and
taste From my gun, big guns, big power M. Woods, sixth hourm Berettas, Tauruses, Rugers Smith and Wesson's, glocks and lugers AK's, AR 15's Mack elevens and
The speculators made their money on the blood you shed Your momma's pulled the sheets up off your bed Profiteers on Jhames Street sold your shoes and
the back of the masters' whip used to crack upon Strong enough to take all the pain, that's been Inflicted again and again and again and again and flipped
, not mine. I gotta gun and ima cock mine. Hatas, gimmie 50, drop down. My nigga C-Mo. And that boy Mike-Mo down wit Z-ro. And that Millzey, its goin
And I'll be right there with him, black suit and all So you made ?humafisto? and hexagons a crystal When he arrives at your doorstep with money by the