Gucci Mane and Meek Mill - Get Money Nigga

Gucci meek Milly
From ATL to Philly, nigga
Real recognize real yeah, we hood rich bitch
Trap God, turn us up

I'm a money getting nigga
At least, that's just what I'm known for
You better call on my connect
And ask him what he put me on for
I heard y'all niggas ballin'
Then why the fuck you take a loan for?
Better get the fuck out East Atlanta
You niggas know you don't belong there
All my niggas smoking strong here
We don't talk reckless on the phone here
A lot of cliques don't get along here
Bricksquad my nig, we rock our own gear
(Squad)
I'm on the grass, sitting on the lawn chair
I hope that you don't read me wrong
But if I go pull out that tone there
I bet that you don't make it home
I'm in the trap house with my long johns
And I been trapping all day long (Skrt)
They call me Baking Soda Armstrong
Before it dry, that shit be gone

I'm a money getting nigga
(Money getting nigga)
At least, that's just what I'm known for
(That's just what I'm known for)
You better call up my connect (My connect)
And ask him what he put me on for
(What he put me on for)
I heard y'all niggas ballin' (Ballin)
Then why the fuck you take a loan for?
(Loan for)
(You better stay up out of Philly, nigga
You know you pussies don't belong here)

Rose gold on my bottom six
Half a mill on foreign whips
I'm in the wheel with a foreign bitch
I'm on the bra strap, and she on this dick
Just bow down, you lame
Your diamonds look strange
I'm grinding like Wayne
When he on that skateboard, I'm saying
Nigga your new girl's my old bitch
My old bitch your new girl
Young lil rich Philly nigga
Them hoes tell me I'm too thorough
I don't even fuck one on one
Cause when I come, I need two girls
That's down to fuck like all night
Give them bitches that hard pipe
Riding with with a ho named Keisha
And we smoking on Keisha
Young nigga fresh like Easter
Blood dripping on my sneakers
Straight drop, I stick that
I sell a brick, I get back
That Molly look like a Tic Tac
And I tell that ho that I
Get it back like 'Whoa'

I'm a money getting nigga
(Money getting nigga)
At least, that's just what I'm known for
(That's just what I'm known for)
You better call up my connect (My connect)
And ask him what he put me on for
(What he put me on for)
I heard y'all niggas ballin' (Ballin)
Then why the fuck you take a loan for?
(Loan for)
(You better stay up out of Philly, nigga
You know you pussies don't belong here)

I drop a bag on your head, nigga
And they'll locate your ass like OnStar
I ain't have to buy shit, nigga
My nigga Waka got his own car
You on my dick like you a bitch, nigga
Why don't you go and quote your own bars?
And I don't want to go back to jail, nigga
But you gon' make me catch one more charge
I could look and tell you're frail nigga
But you keep on tryin' to look hard
Your friends keep asking "What's the smell
Nigga?" that's your motherfucking homeboys

I'm a money getting nigga
(Money getting nigga)
At least, that's just what I'm known for
(That's just what I'm known for)
You better call up my connect (My connect)
And ask him what he put me on for
(What he put me on for)
I heard y'all niggas ballin' (Ballin)
Then why the fuck you take a loan for?
(Loan for)
(You better stay up out of Philly, nigga
You know you pussies don't belong here)

Written by:
Stacks Tarentino, Radric Delantic Davis, Robert Rihmeek Williams

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, The Administration MP, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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