เนื้อเพลง Get Money N*gga - Gucci Mane

[Intro]
Gucci
Meek Milly
From ATL to Philly
N*gga, real recognize real
Yeah, we hood rich b*tch
Trap God, turn us up

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
I'm a money getting n*gga
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 n*ggas ballin'
Then why the f*ck you take a loan for?
Better get the f*ck out East Atlanta
You n*ggas know you don't belong there
All my n*ggas 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 crib, sittin 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
They call me Baking Soda Armstrong
Before it dry, that sh*t be gone
[Hook: Gucci Mane and Meek Mill]
I'm a money getting n*gga
(Money getting n*gga)
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 n*ggas ballin'
(Ballin)
Then why the f*ck you take a loan for?
(Loan for)
(You better stay up out of Philly, n*gga
You know you pussies don't belong here)

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
Rose gold on my bottom six
Half a mil on foreign whips
I'm in the wheel with a foreign b*tch
I'm on the bra strap, and she on this d*ck
Just bow down, you lame
Your diamonds look strange
I'm grinding like Wayne
When he on that skateboard, I'm safe
N*gga your new girl's my old b*tch
My old b*tch your new girl
Young lil rich Philly n*gga
Them hoes tell me I'm too thorough
I don't even f*ck one on one
Cause when I come, I need two girls
That's down to f*ck like all night
Get them b*tches that hard pipe
Ridin' with with a ho named Keisha
And we smoking on Keisha
Young n*gga 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'

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Gucci Mane]
I drop a bag on yo' head, n*gga
And they'll locate yo' ass like OnStar
I ain't have to buy sh*t, n*gga
My n*gga Waka got his own car
You on my d*ck like you a b*tch, n*gga
Why don't you go and quote yo' own bars?
And I don't want to go back to jail, n*gga
But you gon' make me catch one more charge
I could look and tell you're frail n*gga
But you keep on tryna to look hard
Your friends keep asking "What's the smell, n*gga?"
That's your motherf*cking homeboys

[Hook]