Money Machine (feat. Rick Ross)

Fluorescent lamps in my crib providing light for my seeds

I'm a get money Marine, I sent coke in submarines

Irrigation machines, hydraulic water machines

My money countin' machine sound like a sewing machine

Cash machine on the dresser, machine gun with that compressor

Dough pressure machine and we rocking everything

Claim I'm laundering money, but where the washing machines?

They know my trap house pump out quarters like a slot machine

In a futuristic whip, look like a time machine

Old school, dropped a little one, fine machine

Making chips off coke and soda like a vending machine

Dog food with the quinoa, then my blending machine

Sip so much Codeine and Sprite I need a soda machine

So I could sit it next to my joint rolling machine

And this place parallel to the Carbon 15

With the scope, monkey nuts, and the infrared beam

The machine don't make the man, the man make the machine

So many try to sabotage, can't stop the regime

Call me Wop the puppet master, I'm just pulling the strings

Screaming please don't look at me, papi, like American me

Take a tour with me, a down south, American G

Tryna flood the dirty south, east Atlanta and streets

With this high grade, uncut Colombian tea

Yeah, I got it for cheap, but you ain't get it from me

Got that high grade, uncut Colombian tea

Yeah, I got it for cheap, but you can't get it for free

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep

Money machine, my money machine, my money machine, my money machine

Money machine, my money machine, my money machine, my beep

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep

Eight figure ****, man

When I say boss, I mean that, you hear me?

Yo, I'm so, fuck what I sold

My toilet seats solid gold

You should see my new palace 'cause that bitch bigger than Lowes

I'm a eight figure ****, I run the check to the ceiling

Since Gucci came home, bitches back in they feelings

I'm in Dubai on parole

Abu Dhabi my hoes

If she fuck all the rappers she say hip hop in her soul

Hundred grand in all twenties

They said that I couldn't

Fifty grand in my bitch, just 'cause her ex was lookin'

Red bottom boss, I call the yayo caucasian

Choppers sleep on the couch, ready for home invasions

These pussies watching my Snap

They know that I'm strapped

On the road to the riches, bitches, I'm running my laps

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep

Money machine, my money machine, my money machine, my money machine

Money machine, my money machine, my money machine, my beep

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep

My money machine, my money machine, my money machine go beep, beep