M.m.o. - All About The Money lyrics

rate me

All About The Money / M.m.o.[Naisha]It's like a million and one ways to make a block hotConvertible drop top, I'm chillin, sipping Henny rockPlay the block, cook that ready rock, when M.M.O. popThis dough don't stop, catch me at your nearest chop shopUnorthodox, pop locks, this life don't stopI leave you shot where the fishes rot, keeping it funkyFor ya niggas rhyme, king size and throat dieWe pass locks, counter clockwise, my nigga Hass go to ItalyFor your guys, son, we too flyThugging it, to the highest extentLoving this fashion, we throb like some mad menAnd ghetto action, it's nectar, got me bugging, gunning for cheddarIt's Naisha, quick to split ya, blood on the stretcherAnd bang you from your neck up, you cats ain't toughKilla, paraphanelias, overnight base sellerTo bake cheddar, seeing light straight outta dark cellarYou fucking wit the latest, new line famousThe cinema, black dillinger, nation of emperorBust a calico, straight off the bannister, white AcuraFeel the moist in this, rock fly oystersPop oh, my click colossal, lock and unloadTeam got dough, but seem humble, and over crumbleAnd toke the black double double, no time for rumblesIt's here that niggas feel that make your livings crumbleThe critical get smacked pitiful, talking politicalEighteen hundred Tequila, dog, and better thanMy mic cord and move like some missiles in warBossolino style, hats off, we bloody type, get our mack onAnd touch my hoe with all the thousands and poor[Chorus: male singer]It's all about the money, all about the currencyTaking what you have, to get to where I wanna be[Pearl Handles]Lounge in the lobby, me and dunn sipping Dom PReminiscing when we was getting mad cheese in C.G.Now watch me, terrorize the industry, screw villainsMindstate, visions over a millionMaking a killing like a block, uncut rocksPotent products, so we can stay on topNever get knocked, my spot's like plots on pot locksWorldwide receive, bloody money eaterLegal life achiever, brought the street thugs wit meSpread the luxury, it's not a fantasy, it's realityYou live it up, thug passion, car crashingStreet fashions, out classing what you flashingMassive actions, glow wise and an attractionLight constractions, hot slugs steadily blastingNiggas is wet, laying in blood, all through the surfacePlotting to hurt this, now your people's at another service[Trigg-nomm]It was mid December, that was all I rememberOn the money agenda, caught a flight to VirginiaTransact stage, slay, slid to the BatcaveThey was in the limo, we was in the MontaroDeNiro's, with calicos under the clothesMetal chestplates, stop shit bigger than your thirty eightStay awake, son, that leak have you falling asleepDon dozing, in the morgue with a tag, all frozenWe travel long distance, representing with the glistenNon fiction, my team's real, we on a missionPlay that role pronto, get filled full of holesSincerely yours, M.M.O., love the luciano[Chorus][Itchy Fingas Sha]Aiyo, I spit range, a lyrical titanium steelWe calculate then evaporate you on the battlefieldWe spiderweb like eight legs, yo, blood shot, we dose to the headLet's get this cheddar instead to meet with the breadThen start blazing at this nigga, razors at, inrationalM.M.O. tackable, like an NFL youthWith no equipment on, quarterback sack, a sneaky linebackCan tear ya whole frontline, before halftimeCan flatline ya post line, with your wack ass punch lineYou touch mine, I separate your back from your spineRemember the time like Jackson, then beat it like a gun wit no firing pinTell the judge, you saw it again, thought I lost yaI push the Rover over Canadian bordersHolding the soldiers life, before I shot him straight off his motorcycleDamn bean, turn this money clean in investments schemesWatch kid get cold, reaction to polo, double exposYa'll bitches still blowing my nose, cleaning my toesTrying to fit in shoes you can't even useYou too small, physically, cuz mentally, I rip you allLeave you painted on walls, wit cars that ain't yoursBefore I close ya house, from a penthouse to ya friend's houseWit big bottles of Mo', to St. Ide's and Old Golde, what[Chorus 2X]