Lyrics Get Money Ni**A - Gucci Mane , Meek Mill

Gucci
Meek Milly
From ATL to Philly
Nigga, real recognize real
Yeah, we hood rich bitch
Trap God, turn us up
I'm a money getting nigga
At least, that's just what I'm known for
You better call on my connect
And ask him what he put me on for
I heard y'all niggas ballin'
Then why the fuck you take a loan for?
Better get the fuck out East Atlanta
You niggas know you don't belong there
All my niggas smoking strong here
We don't talk reckless on the phone here
A lot of cliques don't get along here
Bricksquad my nig, we rock our own gear (Squad)
I'm on the crib, sittin on the lawn chair
I hope that you don't read me wrong
But if I go pull out that tone, dear
I bet that you don't make it home
I'm in the trap house with my long johns
And I been trapping all day long
They call me Baking Soda Armstrong
Before it dry, that shit be gone
I'm a money getting nigga
(Money getting nigga)
At least, that's just what I'm known for
(That's just what I'm known for)
You better call up my connect
(My connect)
And ask him what he put me on for
(What he put me on for)
I heard y'all niggas ballin'
(Ballin)
Then why the fuck you take a loan for?
(Loan for)
(You better stay up out of Philly, nigga
You know you pussies don't belong here)
Rose gold on my bottom six
Half a mil on foreign whips
I'm in the wheel with a foreign bitch
I'm on the bra strap, and she on this dick
Just bow down, you lame
Your diamonds look strange
I'm grinding like Wayne
When he on that skateboard, I'm safe
Nigga your new girl's my old bitch
My old bitch your new girl
Young lil rich Philly nigga
Them hoes tell me I'm too thorough
I don't even fuck one on one
Cause when I come, I need two girls
That's down to fuck like all night
Get them bitches that hard pipe
Ridin' with with a ho named Keisha
And we smoking on Keisha
Young nigga fresh like Easter
Blood dripping on my sneakers
Straight drop, I stick that
I sell a brick, I get back
That Molly look like a Tic Tac
And I tell that ho that I get it back like 'Whoa'
I drop a bag on yo' head, nigga
And they'll locate yo' ass like OnStar
I ain't have to buy shit, nigga
My nigga Waka got his own car
You on my dick like you a bitch, nigga
Why don't you go and quote yo' own bars?
And I don't want to go back to jail, nigga
But you gon' make me catch one more charge
I could look and tell you're frail nigga
But you keep on tryna to look hard
Your friends keep asking "What's the smell, nigga?"
That's your motherfucking homeboys