Fuck Bitches Get Money

[Hook] Fuck bitches, get money, get money and fuck bitches You know that I’m a G, I’m a G Get money, get money and fuck bitches You know it’s MOB [Verse 1 – Meek Mill] Meek Milly is back And I just kill a whole beat like I’m a heart attack In my hood I’m an artifact But the coppers want to arrest him like a cardiac So I'mma Dodge 'em like a Charger, Magnum, or Viper Your bitch need service, I’m the plumber that will pipe her I spit game to em like I’m in the cypher That’s why I knock em down like the bowling alley, strikers And I be shitting on niggas like a diaper The way I kill shit, shit I should be a lifer They say my bars be on point like a sniper Just call me Malvo, I’m strapped liked Velcro My gat got hollows all up in the head rest Oh that’s your girl? Give her here, I could care less Know how I’m riding, if I got her Imma share that Got blood diamonds in my chain, just call me redneck [Hook] [Verse 2 – ?] Watch how I drop on this one, top dog that’s my position 100 shots that’s spitting, trust me I am not gon miss em Ain’t had no pot to piss in, so I just broke down pigeons Put my youngins on missions, gave em jobs and had em shifting We had them sort of sniffing, chop a bag and deliver If you want it you get it, I don’t just talk it I live it You do rap for a living, I do rap for a hobby Put my name in your rap and watch how I catch a new body If the labels don’t sign me, I ain’t crying, on ryan I just hit my connect and get some more brick on consignment He know I run right through it, you know that’s how I do it You see them FA troopers, get to moving cause they shooting I got homies like Diddy, and my nigga Meek Milly If they come along with me, trust me it’s not gon be pretty Know I rep for my city, that’s the city of Philly Get money, fuck bitches, you try me I’ll show you this milly [Hook] [Verse 3 - ?] I got my seat laid back, I’m chilling Strapped with a mac in the back of the will Use two hands when I’m clapping it still Got a pack full of crack and a pack full of pills Because we hustle for the muscle Could get clapped in the back for the scrill [?] came back and he back for the thrill Yeah [?] came back and he back for the thrill I’m in my brown paper bag, and I think I’m taking over See my fridge and freezer empty, but this ice and baking soda So we take it to the plot, chop it up and make them boulders Shouts out to the fiends that paid us Shouts out to the fiends that owe us CH, we sliding through, on some shit that’s Windex blue And the windows tinted too, so the haters can’t see through I be in the projects too, posted up right in the circle If you think of coming through then them boys will probably hurt you Time is my money dog, so every minute man That money money calling, fucking up my minute plan I’m on my shit again, you know what time it is You want the streets, turn out no P, you want no drama kid [Hook]