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[feat. Wise P (The Ranjahz) & Sauce Money] [Chorus:] Top notch players, rhyme sayers Nigga we don't do favours, you gotta pay us Ten thousand (more), twenty thousand (more) Thumbing through hundreds, can't stop counting Drug money (drugs), ho money (hos) Whatever as long as it's your money Get off my corner, this grow money You can't sell around here, you get no money [Verse 1:] Fuck a- ah I was told to walk with Jesus, I spark with the heaters I talk to the non-believers through the speakers Either get in line or get low I get in shorty's mind, turn a square into a ho I fuck with real players that sniff blow and get dough Turned from a rapper to a pimp, I'm a schizo Superman without the krypto, you get no love I tip toe let the fifth blow slugs I put mink on the rug, 'chilla on my back My hand around her throat till she deliver me a stack Where my real niggas at? Letras de cancionesI figure that my fanbase push Cadillacs, nothin but MACs Weight holders and money folders surrounded by soldiers I never sober cause I know I ain't living to be much older I'm so colder, you're so over My flow's nova, you're like the dirt on my shoulder Brush it off [Chorus] [Verse 2:] Sauce Money, mum's the word, I just come to serve All of a hundred birds You run with herbs, my thugs elite Hold your block down, when I squeeze you hug the street All that ride talk'll get you is homicide chalk And candles when you kiss that sidewalk I'm a don with a plan that disappears at night like Akon with a tan Stacks in the palm of my hand Competition wishing they me I did in one hour what took them till day three Nigga my fan base is the AC [?] I taste lately, money make me feel like I'm 8'3" Sitting on cash is how you pay me There's no wonder that you feel that you ain't me [Chorus] From Letras Mania