Where's Your Money (feat. Ol' Dirty Bastard)

Yo, all my bitches that make money Throw ya motherfuckin' hands in the air 'Cuz it's all about the money Money rules the world I take over all pussy with money All cars get tooken over 'cuz of money, baby All businesses, baby, it's all about the money To all my niggaz that bustin' shots for money, right now Bust shots, bust shots for the money, now Where's your money? Where's your money? Where's your money? Throw ya motherfuckin' hands in the air Where's your money? The Brooklyn borough king, your bitch to me is everything Sent me to Jersey, trapped off the parascene Or Penelope Pitstop You can't duplicate the picture or record this hip hop My owl's are tryna crust up the ziplock Dime pieces in high heels and flip flops Real playas with the Zenty's wristwatch Outside of clubs is backed up in gridlock Three bouncers the size of sasquatch Plus whips that will make your eyes pop Hot burns that burn faster than matches Dirt is only out to catch Vicks B-boys on the back on some rap shit Fake industry heads sweatin' in the guest list I'm on the spot with a bottle of fresh Cris Lay up on the table, arm around the best chick It's all about the money Hey, I'm O.D.B., let me know where's your money Next time you see me, let me know where's your money Baby, I just got home, let me know where's your money We got to feed these kids, baby, let me know where's your money In a fly tailor made shit, cookin' a blunt Got the Phantom parked crooked out in the front Rowin', gun totin', Sonny Chiba niggaz we large Caymen Island style, suckin' on Cohiba cigars The way we stack cake, you know I know it's makin' you sick Watch dough with diplomats from other countries and shit Now let me show you why we walk with a swagger Money over flowin', spendin' like it don't even matter Money do a lotta shit, money make me more bread But money take a nigga life, put a price on they head Think you nicer than the dreads, snitches fight with the Feds Keep it cool, while I put all of the hype on the bed Bitch, ever since my cake got a little bigger Fuck with JP Morgan, Merryl Lynch and them niggaz Fuck it, call it what you wanna call it, nigga, we sinners Throw my money at ten thousand dollar tables for dinners Now it's a Busta Bus, now, nigga, let me know where's your money Every time you see me, let me know where's your money You can give me all your money, let me know where's your money When it's the first of the month, nigga Let me know where's your money For the carat D class next to my middle finger When I see my own reflection, diamond frost the mirror Diamonds as cold as ice, frost bite like winter Floss fitters, three quarter four length chinchillas You wish you knew the way, the kid'll quiet dough is a mystery Niggaz bread stack longer than American History Now peep the way we runnin' through y'all, it's funny Fuck around get you murked with my 'Woo-Hah' money Lay you down in the dirt, let me school y'all dummies Hit the town with the work like crack heads, they love me Shit to call my cake disrespectful, bitch, holla A lot of acres with a pet alligator named Dollar Bust it, y'all niggaz know that I'm the most, so just stop it I cop cribs and stash cake and keepin' money in wallets Niggaz money smaller than a bar of Whatchamacallits Money hungry like Sudan, when my paper stay brolic, listen Hey, I'm O.D.B., let me know where's your money It's a Busta Bust now, nigga, let me know where's your money Next time you see me, let me know where's your money 'Fore I stick ya ass up, nigga, let me know where's your money SONGWRITERS SMITH, TREVOR / SPEARMAN III, TOMMIE