Money Cash Clothes
Money Cash Clothes

The Game ft. A$AP Rocky - Money Cash Clothes Lyrics

3

Money Cash Clothes Lyrics

Ayy, Swizz
Lemme talk to 'em

"It's game time", what the AP said
Shoutout to every bad bitch that gave me head
"Fuck you", to every nigga that pray me dead
I'm alive, you gotta deal with me, Jay-Z dreads
Drop the top, let the AC spread
Tell every rapper 'cept him and Nas to come and break me bread
My morale cannot be stepped on
I'm the real middle child
Niggas get smoked like all the roaches I done slept on, don't get me started
Who am I? I am the big homie, the Lil' Wayne Carter
They tryna throw the book at blood, but I'm the author
I can still say Nine-Trey and my bandana stretch farther than New York
It's like I'm walkin' on water
How I end up in Heathrow with the Draco inside of my joggings?
'Til I'm back on the west side with my gun
Livin' in Conway, butcherin' Swizz Beatz, and beef is always the entree
Sup, Andre? Far as the rest of you niggas
Slide on you, mask on, nigga, I'm Ye
Yeah, style on you bitches
Flyin' birds before OVO put the owl on the stitches
I've been in the mix, DeLeon with the FN on
It's hit or miss
They sayin' "Rest in peace", 'cause I let it rip
I used to rock it ASAP when I flick the wrist
Now this nigga A$AP Rocky hoppin' in the whip

Uh, yeah (A$AP, nigga)
Nigga, Harlem World to the west coast, nigga
You know how fly niggas collide, uh (Zombie on the track)

Coupe de Ville money (what?) Hooper deal money (what?)
New face hunnids, honey, we don't peel twenties (what?)
Blue face, my boo cakes will probably steal from me (c'mon)
In a new place but got dudes that shoot and kill for me (yeah)
They look and stare funny (yeah), but them hookers still love me (yeah)
Do it for the shooters 'cause the shooters feel for me (oh)
I do it for the bitches, make 'em boost and steal for me (yeah)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes
Pi'erre goons with the (?) in your coupe doin' burnouts
Make your boo wear the perm up, pretty nigga that you heard 'bout
Ya heard, I heard a word around the curb I took your bird out (yeah)
She be with the bad hoes, I just fuck to get the word out
Special announcement, new Loewe on the way, can you pronounce it? (Bitch)
You cop the clothes they give away, I'm in my house with (bitch)
I'm with your housewife, trying on my outfits
Taking off her blouses

More money, more cash, more clothes (what?)
Money, cash, clothes, money cash, clothes (c'mon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (let's go)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)

Rocky, you got Riri, let me have them now
Balenciaga bomber coat, I take hand me downs
Especially if it's from A$AP, Harlem World, Mase back
Hit 'em with the Diddy Glock .9, tell 'em take that
He always keep the clips on 'em, marble floor, tip-toein'
AP got the crib glowin', yeah
Now she naked in the Rick Owens
I'm runnin' 'round the mansion with the blick showin'
Calvin Klein briefs with my dick showin'
All black Prada bucket and I got a Chrome Heart
Virgil died, not a inch of Louis, now we Goyard
Go hard, Avirex leather with the Numi logo
Horse in the carriage, sticks on us comin' through in Polo
Hunnid in the black whip, hunnid in the tail fin
Dapper Dan, Gucci'd down when I was on welfare
Yeezy slidin' across the stage, the Grammy award goes
Anything is possible, Drake got cornrows

More money, more cash, more clothes (what?)
Money, cash, clothes, money cash, clothes (c'mon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (let's go)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)

Now my insulation cost a Maybach
Yeah and your intuition costs like eight racks
Yeah, and my intuition got me laid back
Fuck your intermission, bitch it's A$AP
Nigga, word to Game's butterfly face tat, where he got L.A. at
Send a couple bloody guys to slide where you lay at
So hide where you stay at, reside where you pray at
You scared, go to church
This ain't a purse, it's a murse, nigga

Nah, son, this ain't a Maybach
This a hearse, nigga
Tell her that the Birkin ain't a gift, it's a curse, nigga
Hit 'em where it hurt, pull up right where your fam lay
My alibi? I was with A$AP on Yams day
Howard homecoming when the Draco let the band play
Gold inside a Lamb' chop, dip the Killa Cam way
Free Gunna, free Thug, that's all I can say
They tryna hit a nigga with the RICO off a handshake

More money, more cash, more clothes (what?)
Money, cash, clothes, money cash, clothes (c'mon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (let's go)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)

Writer(s): Jayceon Taylor
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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