If It Ain't About Money

{*Trey Songz harmonizing until 00:21*} [Intro: Trey Songz] + (Fat Joe) YUP~! C'MERE!! (Uhh) YUP~! (Uhh) YUP~! (Uhh) YUP~! (Uhh) [Fat Joe] Wrist on froze, thanks to the stove Mattress financial, bank's never closed Monday to Sunday, serve all addicts Joey Van Gundy, watch me work the +Magic+ Uhh, 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 cush, fuck what your man say Cause you know we don't give a fuck, we let the pan play [Hook: Trey Songz] If it ain't about, mo-ney, why, we, wast-in', time? (And tell her that) mo-ney's, all, that's, on, my, mind You can believe that, I'll be where the cheese at Wrist on froze, better get your ho (C'MERE!!) 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, mo-ney, why, we, wast-in', time? (YUP~!!) [Fat Joe] Neck on froze, thanks to the hoes 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 Aah, 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 [Hook] - 2X - minus first two lines the second time