Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
I'm the motherf**in' Pope and I make I make money!
I got a house made of gold and a city to match
Bulletproof when I roll so don't play me like that
Priceless art where I pee, my loo's a Louvre like that
Got your country's GDP in the j**els on my hat
Hustler of all hustlers, wanna see the proof?
Greatest artists of all time, I got 'em paintin' my roof
And for a low, low price I'll let ya come and see
Just exit through the gift shop as ya go to leave
We accept all credit cards if you've no cash today
Put a couple Pope bobbleheads on layaway
Buy as much as you want, buy as much as you're able
Just don't let Jesus in 'cause he'll start flipping tables!
(Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
He's the motherf**in' Pope and he makes he make money!)
Mmm, look at the a** on him
He's got a face that's an eight but an age of ten
If a Priest gets fresh and a complaint comes in
Switch him to another city then game on again!
'Cause I got eff you money used for underage
Stackin' paper higher than the rate of Africa's AIDS
But no condoms, guys! 'Cause God gets enraged
Just keep prayin' and pa**in' 'round them offering plates
Portfolios to uphold for the government bonds
You know, those things countries use to finance all of their bombs?
'Cause God is love, but he still invests heavily in hate;
You seen the maintenance fees to maintain pearly gates?
((*crying*
-"Hey girl, what's wrong?"
-"My grandmother just died!"
-"Oh, well I'm real sorry to hear about that! You know, it'd be a shame if someone were to stick her in a place where she just burned and burned forever...you don't want that, do you?"
-"...n-no..."
-"You know, I think I'm gonna have to get some of my boys to pray real, real hard to make sure that doesn't happen, don't you?"
-"Y-yes, yes please, I'll...thank you!"
-"...b**h you got my f**in' money?"))
Media: I run it, politicians, I own 'em
Wars I don't condone but I still bankroll 'em
Wait! Uhh, I mean allegedly!
'Cause what goes on in my ledger you're not allowed to see!
Not a man, woman or child, nation or country
Has the authority to stand up to me
Because I got a little thing called National Sovereignty
It was awarded to me by this cat named Mussolini
You remember, Hitler's buddy back from World War Two
He said "you didn't see the Holocaust"
I said "holla who?"
I got a tax-free country just for playin' along
And when you're this close to God, nothing you do is wrong!
Infalli-a-ble, say it with a straight face
That's right, my God backs up every single word that I say
'Cause he's not some old guy living up in the clouds
He's here on Earth, in my wallet and my bank accounts
'Cause I
(Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
He's the motherf**in' Pope and he makes he makes money!)
L. Ron Hubbard, Pat Robinson
Y'all some punk a** b**hes!
Y'all ain't even on my level!
And Dalai Lama?
What the f** are you doing?
You gotta monetize that sh**, sonnnnnn!