Testo Filthy Money - Birdman feat. Juvenile
Testo della canzone Filthy Money (Birdman feat. Juvenile), tratta dall'album Just Another Gangsta
Yeah
Stunna
Uptown shit
Yeah
D-Roc
.40 with the range, sniper with the aim
Playing fuckin' games, nigga bust him in the brains
3rd Ward soldier, live it how we get it
Bust 'em if they playing, nigga, hood rich, we living
We simple 'bout the money, nigga
Paper chase, we running
Lay 'em down, bust 'em down
Break 'em down, we gunning
Filthy 'bout this paper, alligator suede
We living in designer, and riding on them blades, slime
Paper chase, we knew it
Money gang, we blew it
Play around, we shoot it
Nothin' with me, won't do it
Playing games and we flew it
Nigga know it's one thing
If we come around, we do it (Rich Gang)
Rich Gang, no barking
All that fake playing, you talking
We all about this money gang
You fuck around, we chalking
Situation got sticky
Pussy nigga went hold up
Pussy nigga got chalked up
Playing with us and got fucked up
3rd Ward to my death, Uptown 'til I die
Mrs. Gladys, nigga, we ride, Uptown, we higher
Pimping on this paper, alligator with the suede on it
Big money, we played on it, that's the way we laid on it
.40 with the range, sniper with the aim
Playing fuckin' games, nigga bust him in the brains
3rd Ward soldier, live it how we get it
Bust 'em if they playing, nigga, hood rich, we living
We simple 'bout the money, nigga
Paper chase, we running
Lay 'em down, bust 'em down
Break 'em down, we gunning
Filthy 'bout this paper, alligator suede
We living in designer, and riding on them blades, slime
I'm a bad man, Aaron Rodgers
If you play baseball, you a Dodger
I'm a grown man, y'all niggas toddlers
I travel 'round the world like the Harlem Trotters
I don't give a fuck about nothing
It could be something if a nigga won't make it out something
Rule number one, no runnin'
Rule number two, keep gunning
That's how I'm coming
I be in the city up in all the Wards
Fuckin' 'round downtown, I done caught a charge
On Claiborne, right there by the bridge
They say they smell marijuana up in the car
Old school, I should should buy baller walls
See my lil' homie 'nem falling off
I don't like to talk, I don't talk at all
If you don't run today, you don't walk tomorrow
From the bottom, I been through it already
Smoking on gas, 93 unleaded
Trapped independent, where the fuckin' confetti?
Smelly came with the bag and that bitch heavy
Nigga, I'm raw and it can't be edited
You a bitch, you a bitch too, y'all relatives
Y'all wear Old Spice now, y'all delicate
I don't even fuck with stupid niggas, I'm prejudiced
.40 with the range, sniper with the aim
Playing fuckin' games, nigga bust him in the brains
3rd Ward soldier, live it how we get it
Bust 'em if they playing, nigga, hood rich, we living
We simple 'bout the money, nigga
Paper chase, we running
Lay 'em down, bust 'em down
Break 'em down, we gunning
Filthy 'bout this paper, alligator suede
We living in designer, and riding on them blades, slime
Rich Gang
Credits
Writer(s): Bryan Williams, Terius Gray, Daniel Lebrun, Sven Rafael Steenburgen, Ansen Andre
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