Dukedagod - Getting Money feat. J.R. Writer Lyrics lyrics

rate me

Hook:

We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'

We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'

We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'

We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'

(Repeat)

Verse 1

J.R. Writer:

That's word buzzen, I swerve cousin (Errr!)

In that 2006 like it's worth nothin'

Got these birds buggin', I'm on 1st stuntin'

With no stick-shift, just a reverse button (the Aston Martin)

But I ain't Hollywood hater, I'm still servin' 'em like a volleyball player

Spare 8 keys, the gear chase me

You need two, meet me in Staircase B (second floor)

I'm pitching 'em, you ain't never seen hard

You little creeps starved, you niggaz need jobs

I do this thing large, bottles after bottles

Then dismiss the case like a judge on a weak charge

Peep .R, scrapper this shit is nothin'

You actors are into cuffin', these stragglers are disgusting

Ask 'em all how I'm bubblin'

I spray more alcohol around then a barber after he finished cuttin'

Hook

Verse 2

40. Cal:

(40.) I dress gully, vest with the fresh skully

Lex buggy, no cologne cuz I'm smellin' like fresh money

You better tell thunny you never will sell bunkies

You can't hold nuthin' but shells, get 12 from me

Probably go to jail, prayin' like "Help" dummy

While I'm diddy-boppin' out, wavin' like jail funny

I get locked up by 12, say around 12:20

Call me Slater and Screech, get saved by the bail money

Then I ice-grill the judge cuz it just felt gully

Leave an ape nigga bloody's what I call a Red Monkey

Yeah, the champion cheering, man of the year when

I go to the store, coppin' what the mannequin's wearing

Serving grams to ya parents, I get the ounce flippin'

I admit, I'm the reason the shit in ya house missin'

I'm in ya spouse kitchen, makin' other figures

With dick in her mouth, like Killa, "I'm gettin' money nigga"

Hook

Verse 3

J.R. Writer:

Ya shines are simple, mines offend you (Heh)

Yours bling bling, my shit dingles (ding)

You don't know the grind I'm into, check the Rolls I floss

Yeah I put 'em on but the shits keep going off

I'm glistening gold, wrissery froze

Boogers all in my ring and I ain't diggin' my nose

Too much digits to fold, what I'm spending is old

But I still'll mack a chick and tell a pigeon like "Yo"

(We getting money over here)

Fix ya face ho, why, cuz I say so

What part don't you understand, I'm gettin' peso's

They know not to stunt on me wit' some liquor

I'll buy out the bar just for me and my niggaz

Nobody drinks, look fam that's the truth

I'll have the whole club sipping Cranberry juice (sober)

You hungry in the rear, my money in the air

I don't know what y'all doing over there, but look

Hook