Versuri

Hook (Young Buck - Troy Ave):
These niggas must not be cooking no coke
They ain't cooking they just frontin' you heard
These bitches must be used to being broke
Hand on the bible I'mma man of my word
Well I got yayo for sale, I got cooks for smoke
I ain't said no shit, I'mma push the dope
Money, hoes and clothes, I'm talking bout the good life
So now you know what drug money look like

Verse 1 (Young Buck):
Miracle whip it, spreadin' the coke over the bread
Keep the Dr. Dre knife with me to poke you in the head
I let my white girl sniff it, it made her open up her legs
My nigga Rudolph snowed it until it's nose turned red
A damn shame, I'm the reason you can't find your vein
If your daddy stealin' out your momma's purse, I'm to blame
Tryna get that i8 but I gotta find the name
I ain't got no credit, I just got cocaine
I mean these niggas was like he's paying car notes
Your wrist don't twist, that's the reason you are broke
You playin' with the powder, you niggas is all jokes
C'mon dog you never gun on me Carlos
I'm plug for real, I'm tryna feed ya'll coast
I don't believe your pitches nigga or read ya'll post
Your body language telling me you're broke
And plus Obama bout to go
I got my momma weighing up the dope

Hook (Young Buck - Troy Ave):
These niggas must not be cooking no coke
They ain't cooking they just frontin' you heard
These bitches must be used to being broke
Hand on the bible I'mma man of my word
Well I got yayo for sale, I got cooks for smoke
I ain't said no shit, I'mma push the dope
Money, hoes and clothes, I'm talking bout the good life
So now you know what drug money look like

Verse 2 (Young Buck):
Niggas know what drug money look like
All my jewels shine, nigga I don't need good light
All my bitches bad but my foreign a good type
S-Class bands but my Porsche had the hood like
That nigga rich, that nigga gets
Money motherfucker, he started with selling bricks
Well add a little extra, compress it to get the chips
But he stay wise, still lays on his Vicks
The boy hide his grits, the boy pot ain't grits
Might use a microwave if I'm tryna do it quick
Tryna clock the yay and the fork, that's water whipped
And sit in on the paps, dry it, I lose a pinch
But what the fuck is the point when you're dealing with joints boy
Whole birds, covert with us, so no choice
Chillin' in the jail, rappin' to my brazil
I done chill (?) so people won't tell

Hook (Young Buck - Troy Ave):
These niggas must not be cooking no coke
They ain't cooking they just frontin' you heard
These bitches must be used to being broke
Hand on the bible I'mma man of my word
Well I got yayo for sale, I got cooks for smoke
I ain't said no shit, I'mma push the dope
Money, hoes and clothes, I'm talking bout the good life
So now you know what drug money look like

Verse 1 (50 Cent):
When I say I'm back for spot, I'm in the number one slot bitch
Lights and the cubans that will fuck up your optics
I'm raw like sushi, eat the pussy, you chop stick
Niggas go wood, honey, I'm home in the hood
There's no need to test, this pure (?) go get it gone
F&N in the palm, extendo in the jaw
You say you bout that bullshit, well come and get what you want
You niggas lookin' malnutritioned
100 knots in the yacht, skate across the Pacific
Sposed to be out the loop, funny how I don't miss shit
It's all addin' up, these niggas here on some sucker shit
The type niggas when money come I ain't fuckin' with
Now let's play, let's make a deal
I'll show up with the money and tell you who to kill
Now you say you get busy for real
Put niggas in the church, I pay you with the work

Hook (Young Buck - Troy Ave):
These niggas must not be cooking no coke
They ain't cooking they just frontin' you heard
These bitches must be used to being broke
Hand on the bible I'mma man of my word
Well I got yayo for sale, I got cooks for smoke
I ain't said no shit, I'mma push the dope
Money, hoes and clothes, I'm talking bout the good life
So now you know what drug money look like