Verse 1 *(San Quinn)*
I`m sky ballin, a young California pimp
loungin in a stretch Bently sittin low on the tens
ice down, draped an dipped hittin bomb weed (bomb weed)
pushin on stega shrimp, sippin Dom P (Dom P)
lavishly cordinated
savagly corperated
on casino, Mr. Gambino`s Mobb affiliated
the world is mine that`s what I read on the blimp
playin cops I`m a robber wit blue prints to the mint
didn`t leave no evidence, back to my residence
snatch the Benjamin`s an all the other dead presidents
my hoochies like to toss me the coochie
floss me in Gucci
but groupies would never cost me no Loochie
what I look like?
givin a hoe all my doe, like she wrote all my flows
bitch I`m all-pro
you be the same hoe on the stroll makin me mo dinero
so tip-toe through the rain, sleet an snow.
*(Chorus)* x2
I gotta get my Money Ova Bitches
they want the money, I want my riches.
Verse 2 *(Messy Marv)*
Quinnton mania, hoes I`m tamin ya
never praisin ya, never payin ya
nuthin mo than attention
havin paper is an addiction
your not bringin additions
then subtract yo self from my juristictions
this how I`m seein it
my crew would be the cleanest
pushin Benzes an Beamers
these hoes ain`t pleased to meet us
pass us Master Cards an Visa`s
illegal searches
we smokin roaches wit no crutches
bitches we cope from bein broke an do it like a hustla
an ain`t no friends we all cousins
baby networkin
money ain`t nuthin you got it all you need to quit perpin`
a quarter million wouldn`t satisfy me
I be a master like P
an I act like Luni
only God can do me
burn a crutch wit doobie, approach smoothly
only ladies wit paper amuse me, an broke hoes choose me
but lose bein in a pursuit of tryin to talk
for the conversation of fuck you an shit bitch it`s goin to cost.
*(chorus)* x2
Verse 3 *(San Quinn)*
I got 2 for 1, from ye-yo to indo
paper now, hoes later, the tradition in Fil-mo
dime-els, bricks of ye-yo, coke dealers crack sales
niggaz that tell on big wheelers
young killaz, bitches that jock, look at `em stare
got `em choosin, got hoes droolin on a playa
my gold teeth glare, shinnin like cheese goin Gling
knock out playa, K.O.P. in the street
I fuck wit big timers, ridin sideways wit young thugs
don`t manipulise, of Fil-mo hood nudge
shake hood slugs, make hood drugs
never could, never would a nigga hoe trust
Money Ova Bitches
trust a bitch I never would
I`m too major
havin paper like Tiger Woods
famous in the Mobb
rob from the rich slang ye-yo to the poor
flippin, manipulatin a dumb hoe
fo way mo
I tell `em BIA-TCH!!
I love ballin, how could I be tired of bein rich?
been off the hook so long, got disconnected unexpected
an you niggaz is wrong fo payin hoes an hoes protected.
*(chorus until end)*
