Get Money, Spend Money, No Money lyrics

Keith David

Yeah!
Gangsta
Uh!

[Verse 1: Ice Cube]
Tell me all my children
'Fore I come through, is the hood in the building?
(Yes)
You won't believe what I'm dealin'
This West coast sh*t, oh what a feelin'
(Ah)
n***as think I'm drug dealin'
'Cause I roll by with no motherf**kin' ceiling (none)
Is he worth a hundred million?
No need to ask Ice Cube how I'm livin'
(How ya livin' loc?)
I still got the recipe
South Central LA is the pedigree
Don't try to tell me what it better be
I have your ass up in physical therapy
I outlaw like a Cherokee
The rap industry tried to bury me
But if I died on the mic up at Larry B
I'm so heavy, you b*t*hes couldn't carry me

[Chorus: Ice Cube]
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie, throw it up)
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie, throw it up)

[Verse 2: Ice Cube]
I don't accept no disrespect
Only thing I expect is self-check
Just grin and bury it
Got an ass-whoopin' that your ass don't wanna inherit
Most rappers are parrots
They say what they told to say, to get a neck full of karats
Got your mama embarrassed
How long 'fore they callin' us, terrorists? n***a, I'm serious
I, keep it gangsta but it keeps a job
'Cause, it's, hard to sleep when you steal and rob
And ya, got to run here comes the blob
'Cause, Uncle Sam is like part of the Mob
Break yourself, he'll take your wealth
Don't get it twisted, you a motherf**kin' elf
And Santa Claus will go for self
All you got is your balls and your health

[Chorus]
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie, throw it up)
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie. throw it up)

[Verse 3: Ice Cube]
n***as brag about what they got
But we don't own a skyscraper, now that's paper
(Now that's paper)
One generation from slums
Happy for these little crumbs, you little bums
We saw you pull up, but n***a shut up
(Shut up)
You always talkin' about a f**kin' car or truck
You always talkin' about some f**kin' rims or interior
That kind of sh*t'll keep our ass inferior
I'm tryin' to eat tomorrow
Ain't tryin' to hear about the little bitty sh*t you bought
Saw your little bitty house on "Cribs"
Where you f**k your wife, and feed your kids
(Uh, uh)
n***a be quiet, ain't sh*t private
Everything for sale, you can buy it
All this self-snitchin', all this self-tellin'
Motherf**kers goin' back to the watermelon

[Chorus]
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie, throw it up)
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie, throw it up)
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie, throw it up)
Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy
(I really don't give a f**k)
Your money ain't my f**kin' money, got a pocket full of money
(Come on homie, throw it up)

Think your friends would be interested? Share this lyrics!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Contact Us DMCA Policy Privacy Policy
Copyright © 2013-2021 Lyrics.lol