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[Radio calls of UNLV vs Loyola Maramount for the next spot in the 1990 NCAA Tournament]
[HOOK]
Money money money, Ima need about a brick
Who is this, calling me around 12:46
Boy Im Lit, whats the point of having work if it don’t flip
Open shop, where you from, it don’t matter lets get rich
[VERSE 1: P’]
Money money money all these flows I’m tryna flip
Got these raps up in a package tryna roll, take a trip
Go from mamas lunch with cheese to linguini with the shrimp
Find ya coach P’Ocean rollin potent plottin with a limp
Sippin out the tin, Born city of sin
Built to win, Tryna build
Tryna stack why my bitches tryna spend
She don’t see We run it like I roll em baby, end to end
She just tryna hit my pocket I move out like Donovan Mcnabb
Ain’t no bitch gon touch the stash
Why my last one did the dash
Just wanted to swim and I took more than a dip in that
Dipped out with my windows down, plotting past the runner up
10 bands ain’t really shit if you work till the summer up
Im Stayin close to the green, plenty far from the purp
They say they g to the genes Im seeing signs of a skirt
She tryna fuck wit my team, busy makin it twerk
She couldn’t make it to work how I pray you make it to church
[HOOK]
[VERSE 2: Schwoogi]
Last night I didn’t get to sleep, money likes to interfere
Luckily I killed some beers, trippin off my trippy kit
Money money money place it neatly in my palm
I be coolin off a 8th of grapes while drinking drunk and driving home
First I made a pitstop, for condoms beer and Newports
My side bitch getting paid tonite so you know what they used for
Plus i don’t have to ask for shit, she already know the biz
Hustle first and make it back, thats what keeps me interested
Riders riding with me getting slizzard stacking stupid cheese
Fresh as fuck, still a bum, with mouthpiece like them hookah things
Lit, Ima need all my percentage. Trip, and watch me warm up like a scrimmage
Anything goes when it comes to the hoes, I swear a nigga 8 Mile living
By any means, I done seen many teens fuck up opportunity
Took the wrong route, looked away from the scout, then next week, read the nigga eulogy, its sad
What I gotta do for the cash, mad, learned how to move without a dad
Money meant everything, until I seen the Devil chilling at the bottom of my glass
[HOOK]
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