Nicki Minaj, Busta Rhymes and Brinx - Money On My Mind

I got my mind on my money, and I'm not goin' away
So keep on gettin' your paper
For real yeah ain't never had to tell me get this bread
Holiday Season, Busta Bus, Nicki Minaj
Billions baby, Frank Bill-ion (C.I.t.)
This is a world premier, Style on them (Let's get it)

Now you hold it's your excellence
See I T.C. Oh forward slash president
East side resident oh so evident
Brinx Billy ride cousin black on black phantom 26's on the side of them
Ninas on the side of them
Goonies on the side of them
Anybody can get it boy be careful on the side of them
These niggas are burial guns no fear of you
Money hungry honey with me if you holla she gonna carry you
Flyer than a aerial, there I go, Jet-to
Sittin' on my feet when I'm stuntin' on them people
I tell no fables everything chillin'
Fax machines OfficeMax see me for that paper
You workin' for short bread ain't my money long youngin'
Bitch I'm on trappin' more digits than a phone number
Different time zones on them kill them niggas lyrically
Left side of my closet look invaded by Italy
Right side Paris left side flaggin'
Paper is is my main chick me and money married
And that's all a nigga know bitch
That's why them brand new niggas is all up on my old shit (holiday season)

That's what I did I came up out the truck
You what I'm sayin' I chuck my deuces like
That's all I do like
Young money Nicki Minaj it's the Ninja Harajuku Barbie and all of that
You know I'm sayin' like yeah that's what we doin'
Gettin' money like you know what I'm sayin'
You writin' disses we gettin' money
Yeah boy (Yo-yo-yo-yo)

Get me my Limousine, all in your magazine
And when I come they betta lean like Promethazine
Them no say Nicki nice.

I'm about my money mama
And tell Michelle I got my eye on Barack Obama
Tryin' to get that Madonna you know Hannah Montana
Can find me sittin' Indian style with the Dalai lama
Konichiwa I get my yin and say sayonara
I'm meditatin' and I'm in cahoots with a higher power
Mind on my money mind, mind, mind on my money yeah
Mind on my money mind, mind - Nam Myoho Renge Kyo
Mind on my money ayy, mind on my money babe
How does this money taste wine in your money's face
You see the signs and the teachin'
If you didn't know well this is grindin' season
Now and go get your gangs signs throw it up
All my niggas on them bikes throw it up
We don't care what you say we ain't goin' away
My niggas bring the heat like a summer day
So mind on my motherfuckin' money mind on my motherfuckin' money

I speak foreign languages and shit
But the language is speak is that money language
Flip mode bitch
Brinx I like how we do the Brinx truck job on these niggas homey
Time after time again I like niggas
And remind niggas how I hold out on motherfuckers

Niggas out here frontin' about they bread you can't trust it
Niggas my money so stupid call me warren busta buss
Nigga glad it ain't a toss and everythin' about me butters I've been countin'
Money so long I see dollar signs and different colors
My money is smear and smothered your money you hear me brother
Been about that bread like I was broke or still in the gutta
And in case you ain't know there will be no replacement
And them bags of Arab money I got stashed in the basement face it
When ever I shine I glisten and when ever I talk you listen
Ain't no money gettin' made in these street without my permission
I keeps it drug infested my money is well connected
It's to the point where my conglomerate is well respected
You need to check my method
I promise you I be the wrong nigga
When it comes to my money that you ever want to mess with
Grind like missionary labor holdin' indicatory paper
You ain't know? My team is filled with consiglieres
I don't give a fuck about your stipulations
Type of bread appropriate for every situation
You can tell by the jewelry sittin' on my collar
From the bread to the crib I know all about the dollar

You know I ain't into all of this long talkin' shit
Shit is confusin' me when I'm countin' paper
Brinx Busta Bust bitch
You know I only wanna inspire y'all to get it like how we get it
You know it's a recession out here, we all need to get it
So when we walk around we ain't gotta look like foolish niggaz

Written by:
Onika Maraj, Trevor Smith Jr.

Publisher:
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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