Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
I'm King Kong, this my theme song
With Sky on the hook, we touch Kareems Soul
Your team's on, homie dream on
In the movie about pussies you play the lead role
Sensitive rapper, oh sensitive rappers
We meant to get active, we interact with k**ers and factors
We chillin' with trappers, we in the back with infamous jackers
And infinite clappers roast to the back
We get the sh** crackin' exactly like that
The streets give me a hundred dollar credit
Keep it one hundred, nothin sweet like a f**ing diabetic
And Hip Hop ain't dead, but radio programmers should be
f** it, I just said it, nothing I regretted, unapologetic
This whole rap industry's like a survival quest
And the idiot sitting behind the desk is your final test
First they'll censor you and then tax you like the IRS
Jerk me for my money you better buy a vest
You better have a iron chest
It's like a couple of pervs with ear fetishes
f** what you've heard, you're ear-relevant
Whether juggling birds or hustling words
For mathematics, we 'bout action, that's numbers and verbs
Yeah
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Ahhhh. We gon get it. (What?)
Give it to em (Yeah)
We gon get it (What)
Now give it to em
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
I'm a legendary rapper, clap a TEC quick
Blastin' at your baby ba**inet
Snap a neck, snatch a necklace
All I see is money, p**y, fame, power
Sixty minute flights through them rain showers
That's because the plane's ours
'Bout to turn these money stacks to algebra
And shotgun your pa**enger
You're about to take a dirt nap like Africa
And we the f**ing money team, read it and weap
Ask me why I'm leaving the D, I'm 'bout to weave in heat
Modesty is the least, why respect is just a catch 22
Give it to get it or expect it, just catch 22
They call me King Karma, I've seen crowns layed down in extreme carnage
Put mean garmets between me and armor
And I ain't even rhyming man, I'm just being honest man
I would have your body lying in your home
While your soul flying to the promise land
b**hes acting like I gotta go bone, 'cause I'm in they stomach like sonograms
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Ahhhh. We gon get it. (What?)
Give it to em (Yeah)
We gon get it (What)
Now give it to em
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Nobody talk a n***a like I'm in a wheelchair
You stay Tryna walk a n***a, I'm from New York n***a
Pull out, bang em with the hook n***a
Bom bom bom, outlined in chalk n***a
Stick a fork in n***a
I'm in the gym jumpin' rope, liftin' weights, spidey mags, speedbags you can't cope
Every word that I've ever said, you hang on to it
And even though I said it, it wasn't truth, ya ain't gon do it
Cause I, write in my books cause my books is what I say
And what I say is my life, cause the life took away
[?] hurts so long, spit it from the heart from the start, can't go wrong
Ahhhh. We gon get it. (What?)
Give it to em (Yeah)
We gon get it (What)
Now give it to em