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If It Ain’t About Money Lyrics

from The Darkside

"If It Ain’t About Money" is track #7 on the album The Darkside. It was written by Cartagena, Joseph Anthony/neverson, Tremaine Aldon/lyon, Andre Christopher/valenzano, Marcello Antonio/montilla, Edward John.
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"If It Ain’t About Money" is track #7 on the album The Darkside. It was written by Cartagena, Joseph Anthony/neverson, Tremaine Aldon/lyon, Andre Christopher/valenzano, Marcello Antonio/montilla, Edward John.
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Wrist on froze thanks to the stove
Mattress financial, bank's never closed
Monday through Sunday, serve all addicts
Joey Van Gundy, watch me work the Magic

Aah, and I ain't talkin' NBA
I ain't even trust the brethren, jealous ones still envy me
Problem is, these guys ain't even half what they pretend to be
Cold Don, now look at all the shots that they keep sendin' me

And your girl the best, she fulfillin' all my fantasies
She drip, drip, drippin' all up in the Drophead Phantom seats
Now pop your bottles, blow your kush, fuck what your man say
'Cause you know we don't give a fuck, we let the band play

If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?
And tell her that money's all that's on my mind
You could believe that I'll be where the cheese at
Wrist on froze, better get your ho

Pocket full of paper, so these haters can't stand me
Ballin' like the Lakers, keep heat like Miami
And she killin' in them jeans, "Baby, won't you take 'em off for me?"
She said she a boss, and she ain't talkin'
If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?

Neck on froze, thanks to the ho's
Pussy never plummet, pimp 'til I'm gone
Powder white work, let's get this shit poppin'
And fuck the police, like them niggas out in Compton

Ah, we too fly for our own good
And you can see the sky shinin' on the chrome hood
And you can smell that money right off the Lou Vuitton
Self made millionaire right from the Bronx

On my way to Cali, Kobe, he playin' LeBron
Drop 50 stacks, tell my niggas "Pay the bar"
Stop trippin', that pussy got a nigga hard
And the Am-Ex card, blacker than my nigga 'Kon

If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?
Until I die, money's all that's on my mind
You could believe that I'll be where the cheese at
Wrist on froze, better get your ho

Pocket full of paper, so these haters can't stand me
Ballin' like the Lakers, keep heat like Miami
And she killin' in them jeans, "Baby, won't you take 'em off for me?"
She said she a boss, and she ain't talkin'
If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?

You could believe that, I'll be where the cheese at
Wrist on froze, better get your ho

Pocket full of paper, so these haters can't stand me
Ballin' like the Lakers, keep heat like Miami
And she killin' in them jeans, "Baby, won't you take 'em off for me?"
She said she a boss, she ain't talkin'
If it ain't about money, why we wastin' time?

Songwriters
CARTAGENA, JOSEPH ANTHONY/NEVERSON, TREMAINE ALDON/LYON, ANDRE CHRISTOPHER/VALENZANO, MARCELLO ANTONIO/MONTILLA, EDWARD JOHN

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Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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