Get Money Ni**a

Gucci

Meek Milly

From ATL to Philly

Nigga, real recognize real

Yeah, we hood rich bitch

Trap God, turn us up

I'm a money getting nigga

At least, that's just what I'm known for

You better call on my connect

And ask him what he put me on for

I heard y'all niggas ballin'

Then why the fuck you take a loan for?

Better get the fuck out East Atlanta

You niggas know you don't belong there

All my niggas smoking strong here

We don't talk reckless on the phone here

A lot of cliques don't get along here

Bricksquad my nig, we rock our own gear (Squad)

I'm on the crib, sittin on the lawn chair

I hope that you don't read me wrong

But if I go pull out that tone, dear

I bet that you don't make it home

I'm in the trap house with my long johns

And I been trapping all day long

They call me Baking Soda Armstrong

Before it dry, that shit be gone

I'm a money getting nigga

(Money getting nigga)

At least, that's just what I'm known for

(That's just what I'm known for)

You better call up my connect

(My connect)

And ask him what he put me on for

(What he put me on for)

I heard y'all niggas ballin'

(Ballin)

Then why the fuck you take a loan for?

(Loan for)

(You better stay up out of Philly, nigga

You know you pussies don't belong here)

Rose gold on my bottom six

Half a mil on foreign whips

I'm in the wheel with a foreign bitch

I'm on the bra strap, and she on this dick

Just bow down, you lame

Your diamonds look strange

I'm grinding like Wayne

When he on that skateboard, I'm safe

Nigga your new girl's my old bitch

My old bitch your new girl

Young lil rich Philly nigga

Them hoes tell me I'm too thorough

I don't even fuck one on one

Cause when I come, I need two girls

That's down to fuck like all night

Get them bitches that hard pipe

Ridin' with with a ho named Keisha

And we smoking on Keisha

Young nigga fresh like Easter

Blood dripping on my sneakers

Straight drop, I stick that

I sell a brick, I get back

That Molly look like a Tic Tac

And I tell that ho that I get it back like 'Whoa'

I drop a bag on yo' head, nigga

And they'll locate yo' ass like OnStar

I ain't have to buy shit, nigga

My nigga Waka got his own car

You on my dick like you a bitch, nigga

Why don't you go and quote yo' own bars?

And I don't want to go back to jail, nigga

But you gon' make me catch one more charge

I could look and tell you're frail nigga

But you keep on tryna to look hard

Your friends keep asking "What's the smell, nigga?"

That's your motherfucking homeboys