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Mo Money
por
Sir Michael Rocks
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Yea I squeeze a lemon, I squeeze a kiwi It’s lobster ziti, and fettucine I cut them hoes off, [‘cause all ‘em?] speedy Don’t need no fake friend to try to be me, so so Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and Look Money on me All of this cash, I can’t be low-key Balling on niggas like Curry for three When it come to the flex I get [?] OG Who else could it be? Ask around, they’ll tell you it’s me That’s why these bitches be all on the dick I’ll teach you the game, come get a degree Flew out to Cali and bought me some trees Send ‘em all back and I triple the cheese That’s why the jeweler been making me freeze I don’t see no nigga fucking with me Think I was H how I’m after the G’s You chasing these hoes, I’m chasing the green Flame with the loud, chase it with lean All those blue hundreds been crippin’ my jeans I remember when this shit was a dream Seen my first hundred and now I’m a fiend Seen my first hundred and now I’m a fiend Ran up the racks and now it’s a thing Mo money for me Mo money for me Mo money for me Yea I squeeze a lemon, I squeeze a kiwi It’s lobster ziti, and fettucine I cut them hoes off, [‘cause all ‘em?] speedy Don’t need no fake friend to try to be me, so so Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and Money for me Need money for weed, that’s money for us That’s money to touch, that’s money to clutch I ship me some phones then meet you at brunch The breakfast skillet with the wagyu Take a pic wit yo bitch and I tag you No Shade Room, we’ll drag you I’m in LaQuan Smith looking handsome Damn! How could you be mad? Y’all was them niggas before we arrived Remember the day that they shot up the Chevy We was with Nik, I was turning eleven My birthday, Baby Dale was driving, he got us up out of the jam When we got to the crib, yo mama and them was so pissed, I can see from the glance Shout out to my nigga Lance That’s probably why we so advanced If you getting money then I’m getting money, in Cannes, France getting tan Through the airport with the scan Want the paper, gotta take a chance You can do it too if you’ll plan I’m just glad I got a couple friends Mo money for me Mo money for me Mo money for me Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself I squeeze a lemon, I squeeze a kiwi It’s lobster ziti, and fettucine I cut them hoes off, [‘cause all ‘em?] speedy Don’t need no fake friend to try to be me, so so Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and I Mo money for me, myself, and
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