Killer Mike, Messy Marv and Chamillionaire - Big Money, Big Cars

I make big money, buy big cars
Everybody know me (everybody know me)
I make big money, buy big cars
Everybody know me (everybody know me)
I make big money, buy big cars
Everybody know me (everybody know me)
I make big money, buy big cars
Everybody know me (like I'm a movie star)

Talking money
Getting Mike in new pair of Nikes
They said life was a bitch so
I made her my wife
I'm talking holy matrimony 'til
Some other fucking money
Them other boys is talking but I
Swear to God they phony
Fuckboys crazy, nothing but
That's why my motto to this
Day is still 'Fuck you, pay me'
Any rap nigga acting like he want it with me
I swear to God I'll put
His rapping-ass next to Biggie
I swear to God I'll put
His rapping-ass next to Pac
Martin Luther King, nigga
Certified by the block
Gold 54 riding all chrome, big block
And the paint so wet I'm in need of a mop
Black and yellow Chevy and it's
Looking like a bumblebee
My partner came through in his
Gellardo trying to humble me
I left, came back
Murciélago straight stunting G
When he seen me bending left
Nigga must have shit hisself

Gucci shirt, Gucci jeans, Gucci this
Gucci that before I walk out the house
Everything gotta match
I ride through this bitch with
A pocket full of money
I bet no nigga won't say nothing in front me
I went and bought a Benz and
Went and got a bike
Went and stopped by the paint shop
Then sprayed 'em cold white
Them 24-inches man, you know what it is
A nigga put 'em on so my shit'll look big
I'm a certified goon, I be putting in work
I ride with the cannon cause
I be doing hella dirt
I'm the all black fitted
With them all-black swatches
Pushing through the ghetto running
From the paparazzi
All the hood niggas love me
The price on the coke, nigga
It look so lovely i'm a thug 'til I die
The club ain't poppin' if
These bitches ain't high you know me

Trina, Lil Kim, Mariah rihanna even Mýa
Got reps like singing cheques
A whip for each desire
They told me never to burn a bridge
But I still keep a lighter
Ain't met a former friend that proved
He can compete with fire
And the paint so wet I gotta
Park my cars inside a dam
So fly my clothing line should
Be called the 'Mileage Plan'
Metal inside my hand promise it
Ain't no trying fam that Marvel comic baby
(What you mean?) that Iron Man
That Maserati body parked right
There outside the lobby
P-O-P to your body if you
Ever trying to try me
And the paint soaked c-c-candy ladies wanna
Lick my like a lolli-
P-O-P so my hobby is to sit behind a Jolly-
Rancher, look at my swagger
My name is more than known
My garage the square footage
Of the Georgia Dome
Got imported stones, always order chrome
Every other week my ride is gonna be
Exactly what I want it on

Written by:
MICHAEL RENDER

Publisher:
Lyrics © Royalty Network, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.

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