Bout My Money

(Trick Daddy) Let's see, what to do today? F**k that I'm goin to get my money This one in a. Thuggin memory That thug nigga Hollywood nigga I did this one in that nigga name Hollywood nigga, yall remember that mutha f**kin name This bout that mutha f**kin money NIGGA! To kill for cocaine and get a nigga killed And a banana peel will get his whole hide flipped He's bringin danger to the life of his home boy's You can see the moon, but don't let him go alone boy Bout my money, we goin to bump heads and it wont be long That's why I got two choppers, one for the car, and one for the home Got extra grip for when they hold on Nextel, instead of these dial tones And quarter game for these old tapped ass cell phones And new back bone for my new dread homes You aint been outta jail long, but nigga you dead wrong Bout my money, nigga you shouldn't a played wit it You're goin to remember the day when this A.K hit ya. Chorus: Bout my money That shit there aint nothin funny Don't start duckin and runnin when it go to gunnin bout my money And sonny, don't be stuntin and lookin funny When I ask about my mutha f**kin money That shit there aint nothin funny Don't start duckin and runnin when it go to gunnin bout my money And sonny, don't be stuntin and lookin funny Have my mutha f**kin money (Trick Daddy) I read in the Book of Thugs, Chapter A.K Verse 47 And it tells me all thugs niggas go to heaven But between the lines of verses 48 and 9 Is what ya thug nigga's, drug dealin and doin time But verse 100, talks bout my money Say's its full of blood so all memphis is funny But nigga I don't want to hold your gold I just want to free your soul And be found somewhere in public when all this shit unfolds I done gave ya two bricks, and you aint gave me back shit You runnin around in your new bubble lights When verse sit lookin sick I aint here to hold ur sing, I just want my cream And you can keep your little watch and ring that go bling bling Chorus (Trick Daddy) Now all this huffin and puffin Aint goin to get you young f**k nigga's nothin But a shit bag and bullet holes through your bloody clothes Out of all the nigga's you mutha f**kin know I should have been the last nigga you want to muthaf**kin know I'll meet ya at your front door, and im bringin my calico Nigga if u aint got my flow ur ass gotta go We'll get you mammy and all and layin em down on the front room floor Bout to do em all 'cause I done have problems bout all this shit unfolden Bout my money, I came at it, and your son ain't have it Now this nigga I owe is goin to be the next nigga to go I only got 20 G's, and I owe 'em 84 It ain't my muthaf**kin fault, I'm short bout 64 This nigga aint goin to f**k me no more (Trick talking) Chorus