Текст песни Where's My Money - The Evil Genius DJ Green Lantern feat. Busta Rhymes

My f*cker
Whe- where my f*ckin' money
Ha money!
Ha money!
B*tch where my f*ckin' money
Aye yo green
I feel like I'm turnin' green too
B*tch where my f*ckin' money
From bill b*tch be to some incredible hulk sh*t
Where my f*ckin' money
I don't even know why you gimme sh*t like this to speak to
B*tch where my f*ckin' money
I'm sure we speak the same language
F*ck you b*tches pay me
Wait a minute came to get it ranger fitted
Whenever re come the paper
Better know I major with it
Make it rain a major blizzard
Another alligator lizard
I tell a day go racing any challenge And major with it
Even if on a slightest you take a smidgen
Or dare touch my revenue
I slice you with a razor critic
Icy till I make it frigid
Burr the laws of physics
Since it gettin' cold
My money taller than a hall of midgets
I get them all up and kickin' down the door
Who is it
B*tch a be the cool bill collectors
Pay them all a visit
After cleanin' the bank accounts
You question if I gave a sh*t
Not the truth
So you can tell that the player did it
Heya! It's okay to say your prayer
Against the mayor bid it
Slayer givin' you another layer
Other day to trade in
Busta rhymes hittin' you with punch lines
Funny how I f*cked now
B*tch you know I worked mine
Where my f*ckin' money
I ain't soeakin' for
You know what I'm sayin'
Better hammer brad n*gga
I ain't playin'
B*tch where my f*ckin' money
More can be words spoken about your p*ssy
If you think I'm jokin'
Where my f*ckin' money
Think I still ain't crazy if I cut my dread
And if you show cake on side of my head
B*tch where my f*ckin' money
Ha money!
B*tch where my f*ckin' money
Critical it's pinochle I'm cynical
How I deliver lyrical
And take these off a n*ggas paper
Consyturf controversy
I'm so thirsty got no mercy
For some of these b*tches
I collect my money now and later
Keep it movin' with the clip
I make b*tches hit the strip
Cake up everyday
I let my money flip
I wanna slime borderline
Call a crime
I ain't mistakin' n*gga
Yours is fine
No need to second guess it
Check it gloss and grind
Gritty in the floss
The profit in the loss all to tryph
Because I profit from your losses
You don't want it you should get it
In the hood with your money
Extendin' my line of credit
To the medic
Doctors put you on a diuretic
Shrinkin' up a n*gga pocket
Simple n*gga style pathetic
Busta rhymes hittin' you with punch lines
Funny how I f*cked dime
B*tch you know I walked mine
Where my f*ckin' money
I ain't speakin' for
You know what I'm sayin'
Better hammer bred n*gga
I ain't playin'