Correction Paroles Still Ain't Got No Money par Mistah F.a.b.

Featuring(s) : Philthy Rich & Cookie Money

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Paroles

Uh, you done had all day to get some money
You done had all month to get some money
You done had all year to get some money
Uh, uh, you still ain't got no money?
Man, man, man
You still ain't got no money?
Man, damn, damn
How you still ain't got no money?

[Mistah F.A.B.]
Twenty bottles of rosé, we need 'em in our section
Get them widows out of here, don't need 'em in our section
We the ones in the city they be mentioning
If they ain't talkin' 'bout us, ain't nobody listening
Dope air, paparazzi taking pictures of me
Real niggas ugly, all the bitches love me
We throw money in the air 'cause we just havin' fun
Ain't throw no money over there 'cause they ain't havin' none
Nigga talkin' in my ear but I ain't hearin' it
Tampons on my feet 'cause my shoes on they period
We the richest in the city, that's a point blank period
Brand new whips outside and the cars is what year it is
I go broke before I let a nigga play with me
Come get your ho, you already know that she can't stay with me
Shout out Cookie, shout out Philthy, we the town's best
You niggas still chasin' a bag? you ain't found it yet?

[Philthy Rich]
They print this shit every day, you better get you some
Hold it on a Sunday night, all the bitches come
You can have the rest, I want the thickest one
Rosé bottle, need the biggest one
Spend five hundred in a week flat
I don't keep count, I don't keep track
That bitch mad average, you can keep that
Roof on the new foreign detach
Still got more money than all my enemies
I know them niggas hate, I know they envy me
Drop a bag on him, he'll be dead in a week
Them Seminary niggas ain't gon' play 'bout me
Replace the fake love with the paystubs
Seen the toughest nigga comin' out the gay club
Seven bedroom house when I wake up
Seven figure nigga, get your cake up

[Cookie Money]
Daddy was the plug, nigga I was born rich
You got your hand out like a sucker, you's a born bitch
I'm gettin' money, smokin' cookie up in foreign shit
Cook done came up, I'm rockin' with this thirty clip
Feds took pops, f*ck it, I'ma sell purple
Bossed up, orange Ghost up in East Oakland
Signed to the alphabets, I wasn't sellin' verses
You a rat, niggas go to jail, start actin' nervous
In the trap lil bitch, I had to make it happen
Lambos and Masis before I started rappin'
You ain't really 'bout your pimpin', you can stop the acting
I can show you how to get it, flip it, then stack it
Niggas lose they whole bag tryna chase p*ssy
They just sittin' on they ass like a ho's IG
I'm just tryna put this Benz on gold Forgis
Cook got it out the mud, now I'm Cookie Money

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