Money Is Reality

[Verse 1: Action Bronson] Respect the mustache, my people lust cash and puff the cut grass Of spite, known to let a nut fly, right in your slut mask Ring of fire full I step inside fishing to cut glass Tongue poll shaking pillars, you're like a steak a sizzler I'm like a lunch with no boo dip with the whole crew Cause false moves get your whole face smothered like soul food Right by the waist I got the Pro Tool, it's simply logic Produce this hard dick in seconds, make your bitch massage it You're like a forty dollar holler from Guadalajara Gushing to scamma motherfucker's ain't promised tomorrow Badges of honor on the chest the flesh got wounds in it Got inmates with assholes that got balloons in it Versace blue jeans 98 the scent of me Now the scent of me be primarily the scent of tree Fucking feedback, play me feed back Before I shoot you, shorty take the charge, Steve Nash [Verse 2: Termanology] Don't interrupt me I'll silly putty you for the money Red sauce, calamari you with the feeling's funny I'm dealing twenties killing forties by the oz My brain is scattered like I been swallowing OCs Beantown to Queens, you hear the rounds and screams Where they pat down your jeans, take your money and your trees The diamond rocker devouring vodka shrimp and lobster Pop you and turn you into pasta papa look in my cara The flow's furious, so serious cold killers Who rip shit, spit sick, and stole millions Hit em with lead and then men'll run in your grandma house Clear it out, steal everything in it but the couch Term Brady and Action Sanchez Stacks of fair bread, clap and peel wigs The type of feeling I get when I write a rhyme Is the violentest blood-infested killing of all time I'm a beast