Young Buck - Drug Money lyrics

rate me

Ft. Troy Ave & 50 Cent

(Hook)

These niggas must not be cookin' no coke

They ain't cookin' they just fronting, ya heard

These bitches must be used to bein' broke

Hand on the bible I'mma man of my word

Well I got yayo fo' sale, I got cooks fo' smoke

I ain't said no shit, I'mma push the dope

Money, hoes & clothes, I'm talkin' bout the good life

So now ya know what drug money look like

(Verse: Young Buck)

Miracle whip it, spreading the coke ova the bread

Keep the Dr. Dre knife wit me to poke ya in the head

I let my white girl sniff it, it made 'er open up 'er legs

My nigga Rudolph snowed it until it's nose turned red

A damn shame, I'm the reason ya can't find yo vein

If yo daddy stealing out yo mama's purse, I'm to blame

Tryna get that I8 but I got to find the name

I ain't got no credit, I just got cocaine

I mean these niggas was like he's payin' car notes

Yo wrist don't twist, that's the reason ya are broke

Ya playing wit the powder, ya niggas is all jokes

C'mon dog ya neva gun on me Carlos

I'm plug fo' real, I'm tryin' to feed ya'll coast

I don't believe yo pitches nigga or read ya'll post

Yo body language tellin' me you're broke

& plus Obama bout to go, I got my mama weighin' up the dope

(Hook)

(Verse 2: Troy Ave)

Niggas know what drug money look like

All my jewels shine, nigga I don't need good light

All my bitches bad but my foreign a good type

S-Class bands but my Porsche had the hood like

That nigga rich, that nigga gets

Money muthafucka, he started wit sellin' bricks

Well add a little extra, compress it to get the chips

But he stay wise, still lays on his Vicks

The boy hide his grits, the boy pot ain't grits

Might use a microwave if I'm tryna do it quick

Tryna clock the yay & the fork, that's water whipped

& sit in on the paps, dry it, I lose a pinch

But what the fuck is the point when you're dealin' wit joints boy

Whole birds, covert wit us, so no choice

Chilling in the jail, rapping to my Brazil

I done chill at the clinic so people won't tell

(Hook)

(Verse 3: 50 Cent)

When I say I'm back fo' spot, I'm in the number 1 slot bitch

Lights & the Cubans that will fuck up yo optics

I'm raw like sushi, eat the pussy, ya chop stick

Niggas go wood, honey, I'm home in the hood

There's no need to test, this pure cop, go get it gone

F&N in the palm, extendo in the jaw

Ya say ya bout that bullshit, well come & get what ya want

Ya niggas looking malnutritioned

A hunnid knots in the yacht, skate across the Pacific

Supposed to be out the loop, funny how I don't miss shit

It's all adding up, these niggas here on some sucker shit

The type niggas when money come I ain't fucking wit

Now let's play, let's make a deal

I'll show up wit the money & tell ya who to kill

Now ya say ya get busy fo' real

Put niggas in the church, I pay ya wit the work

(Hook)