Make Money (UK Bonus Track)

(album: H.F.M. 2 (The Hunger For More 2) - 2010)

Yeah (Yeah)
Banks (Banks)

You need it, go get it
Seven days committed
You need it, go get it
Seven days committed, nigga
Make money, make money, make money, uh
Make money, make money, make money, uh
Make money, make money, make money, uh
Make money, make money, make money, yeah

Make money, damn if they gon' take it from me
Super swag, bet I get ya naked, honey
You know my stomp ground, South Jamaica, dummy (South Side)
Ain't no comp round, six or seven acres coming
They mad I got in, never shoulda let me through
Body full of diamonds, hopping out the Bentley coupe
Crime high, I'm climbing, the other pockets empty crew
Niggas thought I died then, call me Makaveli Blue
Red and green stripes, diamond ear squares
Screaming twin pumps, right off the Lear stairs
I give a fuck about a bitch, you a Care Bear
Heart pumping, anti-freeze as I stand here
Punch a cotto, nightclubs, bunch of photos
Run up on me like a dodo when I'm thumpin dolo
Here's a no-no, bigger dollar signs than low-low
Twenty stacks off a Polo when I go on promo

Make money, although it don't make me
It takes me somewhere you going need a A.C
They chase me 'cause my neck is clear as H.D
You can't see, baby, I'm in money, waist deep
You should fuck wit' me, I'ma be that nigga
Hell yeah, I'm start acting funny when I get bigger
Fuck the awards, I'd rather buy me a coupe
No thing needed, do it all for the loot
We here to make money
Make money, make money
Take money, take money, take money
Great money, in and out of state money
Weight money, Benjamins, straight money

Flat party, I'm steamrolling everybody
Maserati, riding is my kind of hobby
White Ferrari, player pressed for pussy? Hardly
Ain't no probably, she leave here, I'ma get her doggy
Banks A.K.A. ya got nothing for me, shorty
Thirty, forty more emcees later they will bore me
Delivery semi-auti, style's another story
By the thousand they will call me
I'm a different category, uh
You playing big, riding 'round in your family crib
Look at your rib, rock boys understand the kid
We handle shit, play wit' me, get your candle lit, smoked
Ashes out the window of a brand new Six
The hood behind me, move me, you and what army?
Armed in Armani, Christian Dior whole army
You owe me sorry's, making money, living calmly
Nicki got me fucking Barbies, cousins and aunties

Make money, although it don't make me
It takes me somewhere you going need a A.C
They chase me 'cause my neck is clear as H.D
You can't see, baby, I'm in money, waist deep
You should fuck wit' me, I'ma be that nigga
Hell yeah, I'm start acting funny when I get bigger
Fuck the awards, I'd rather buy me a coupe
No thing needed, do it all for the loot
We here to make money
Make money, make money
Take money, take money, take money
Great money, in and out of state money
Weight money, Benjamins, straight money

You need it, go get it
Seven days committed
You need it, go get it
Seven days committed, nigga
Make money, make money, make money
Make money, make money, make money
Make money, make money, make money
Make money, make money, make money
Yeah! If you ain't making no money, move on, nigga!
You taking up space!
Nigga! Two g's up! Southside on top!
Doe Pesci on the beat! Yeah!
You need it, go get it
Seven days committed
You need it, go get it
Seven days committed
Make money, make money, make money
Make money, make money, make money
Make money, make money, make money
Make money
You know!