Money On My Brain Lyrics
| Song | Money On My Brain |
| Artist | Kool G Rap |
| Album | 4,5,6 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Alston, Carey, Hancock ... | |
| Ninety-five, keep it live | |
| Yeah to make papers, knahmsayin? | |
| Mother****in Kool G. Rap and B1 | |
| and my mother****in man Grimm | |
| Just comin with somethin to keep the brainstem | |
| .. | |
| [B1] | |
| It's Big 1 son, Jamaica Queens is the turf | |
| And I'ma exploit, heaven and earth, for what it's worth | |
| It's the MC extrordinaire, the jewels glare | |
| The God is rare, I'm takin bitches back to my lair | |
| I want mines and yours, strippin niggaz to they drawers | |
| No probable cause, with the chrome double 4's | |
| It's the Queens New Yorker with a bulletproof parka | |
| In eighty-four, it was Calvins and British Walkers | |
| Now I'm sippin Harvey's Bristal Cream with the glock 17 | |
| as the sirens race to the scene | |
| Tryin to get dough, like Pablo, today, **** tomorrow | |
| Seats for carro, as I recline in Monte Carlo | |
| I got the game down to a science, it's the clients | |
| that turn small time hustlers into giants | |
| Three course meal, waitin for my appetizer | |
| Blowin like a geyser, time only makes me wiser | |
| Paraphenalia, and material, makes the crew imperial | |
| I put the fear in you, sippin beer with two | |
| Handlin business properly, form a monopoly | |
| Storefront property, if not, another robbery | |
| I'm puttin forth the effort, murder's the method | |
| The steak is peppered | |
| Son when I let off you meet your Lord and shepherd | |
| Bloody money gets niggaz deaded and wetted | |
| Don't forget it, money's the metal and my hand is magnetic | |
| Chorus: Grimm, B1 | |
| I gotta flip these bricks | |
| cause bein broke drive me insane | |
| Money's on my mother****in brain | |
| From O-Z's to ki's | |
| the triple beam brings fame to my name | |
| Money's on my mother****in brain | |
| Niggaz be scheamin and teamin | |
| but still I maintain | |
| Money's on my mother****in brain | |
| Cause money and murder go hand in hand | |
| It ain't nothin but a game | |
| Money's on my mother****in brain son | |
| [Grimm] | |
| Cryin hopin God forgive me for the ones I killed | |
| But until still, I dry my eyes with hundred dollar bills | |
| Like McDonald's, makin mills servin | |
| **** a Landcruiser now, pulls a ? to Suburban | |
| Stressed out, sittin thinkin past bed time | |
| Scared can't sleep, nightmares about fed time | |
| Diamonds, linens, ostrich and all that | |
| Fat shit I'm talkin code cause my phone's tapped | |
| Crackheads worship me like I'm Jesus | |
| Uncle Sam can't stand me cause I'm ****in all his nieces | |
| Cuties every colour, who I wanna **** next? | |
| Buy a new car, maybe Lamborghini trunk next | |
| Look at the jealousy in the eyes of the roughnecks | |
| Bulletproof glass just in case they wanna buck Tecs | |
| A large ratio in this game dies | |
| But I'm flippin pies, til the Senate legalize | |
| Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap (same lines) | |
| [Kool G. Rap] | |
| I'm sportin flavors and Timbs, a ninety-five Bezn with the chrome rims | |
| Presedential Rolex, two carat diamonds with the stone gems | |
| Pockets filled with lucci leather wallets designed by Gucci | |
| Parlay in resteraunts, eatin shrimp, scampi and sushi | |
| Fly minks, with icicles that blink inside cuban links | |
| Lookin ?, brothers stink, got loot like I'm doin banks | |
| Hundred dollar bottles of chammy, condos in Miami | |
| Front row seats up at the Grammy's, the broke niggaz can't stand me | |
| Hold the flame low, hotel suites inside the Flamingo | |
| Just home by the dingos, I step up in em rockin Kangols | |
| Straight up fakin no jacks, cause all my crackshacks are jam packed | |
| My mad stacks, show that I'm on the right track, like Amtrak | |
| So stand back, cause I'ma make whatever it takes | |
| to shake Jakes, and shoot snakes, and bake more snowflake cakes than Drake's | |
| Cut up your grill like I'm the Barber of Seville | |
| Still like Gotti bodies are found inside the harbor cause I'm ill | |
| It's war, but no more kids are bein kidnapped, matter of fact | |
| ain't with the shit black, I was young when I did that | |
| There's dope in the Copa Cabanas, cock back the hammers | |
| So niggaz in pajamas get they wigs split like bananas | |
| Stable of hotties, niggaz with shotties catchin bodies | |
| Neighborhood John Gotti with more notes than Pavarotti | |
| Yeah, paid as a mother****in bank teller | |
| The Goodfella, I stay a mother****in drug seller | |
| Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap, B1 (G and B alternate) | |
| [ad-lib to outro] |
| zuo ci : Alston, Carey, Hancock ... | |
| Ninetyfive, keep it live | |
| Yeah to make papers, knahmsayin? | |
| Mother in Kool G. Rap and B1 | |
| and my mother in man Grimm | |
| Just comin with somethin to keep the brainstem | |
| .. | |
| B1 | |
| It' s Big 1 son, Jamaica Queens is the turf | |
| And I' ma exploit, heaven and earth, for what it' s worth | |
| It' s the MC extrordinaire, the jewels glare | |
| The God is rare, I' m takin bitches back to my lair | |
| I want mines and yours, strippin niggaz to they drawers | |
| No probable cause, with the chrome double 4' s | |
| It' s the Queens New Yorker with a bulletproof parka | |
| In eightyfour, it was Calvins and British Walkers | |
| Now I' m sippin Harvey' s Bristal Cream with the glock 17 | |
| as the sirens race to the scene | |
| Tryin to get dough, like Pablo, today, tomorrow | |
| Seats for carro, as I recline in Monte Carlo | |
| I got the game down to a science, it' s the clients | |
| that turn small time hustlers into giants | |
| Three course meal, waitin for my appetizer | |
| Blowin like a geyser, time only makes me wiser | |
| Paraphenalia, and material, makes the crew imperial | |
| I put the fear in you, sippin beer with two | |
| Handlin business properly, form a monopoly | |
| Storefront property, if not, another robbery | |
| I' m puttin forth the effort, murder' s the method | |
| The steak is peppered | |
| Son when I let off you meet your Lord and shepherd | |
| Bloody money gets niggaz deaded and wetted | |
| Don' t forget it, money' s the metal and my hand is magnetic | |
| Chorus: Grimm, B1 | |
| I gotta flip these bricks | |
| cause bein broke drive me insane | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain | |
| From OZ' s to ki' s | |
| the triple beam brings fame to my name | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain | |
| Niggaz be scheamin and teamin | |
| but still I maintain | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain | |
| Cause money and murder go hand in hand | |
| It ain' t nothin but a game | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain son | |
| Grimm | |
| Cryin hopin God forgive me for the ones I killed | |
| But until still, I dry my eyes with hundred dollar bills | |
| Like McDonald' s, makin mills servin | |
| a Landcruiser now, pulls a nbsp? to Suburban | |
| Stressed out, sittin thinkin past bed time | |
| Scared can' t sleep, nightmares about fed time | |
| Diamonds, linens, ostrich and all that | |
| Fat shit I' m talkin code cause my phone' s tapped | |
| Crackheads worship me like I' m Jesus | |
| Uncle Sam can' t stand me cause I' m in all his nieces | |
| Cuties every colour, who I wanna next? | |
| Buy a new car, maybe Lamborghini trunk next | |
| Look at the jealousy in the eyes of the roughnecks | |
| Bulletproof glass just in case they wanna buck Tecs | |
| A large ratio in this game dies | |
| But I' m flippin pies, til the Senate legalize | |
| Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap same lines | |
| Kool G. Rap | |
| I' m sportin flavors and Timbs, a ninetyfive Bezn with the chrome rims | |
| Presedential Rolex, two carat diamonds with the stone gems | |
| Pockets filled with lucci leather wallets designed by Gucci | |
| Parlay in resteraunts, eatin shrimp, scampi and sushi | |
| Fly minks, with icicles that blink inside cuban links | |
| Lookin nbsp?, brothers stink, got loot like I' m doin banks | |
| Hundred dollar bottles of chammy, condos in Miami | |
| Front row seats up at the Grammy' s, the broke niggaz can' t stand me | |
| Hold the flame low, hotel suites inside the Flamingo | |
| Just home by the dingos, I step up in em rockin Kangols | |
| Straight up fakin no jacks, cause all my crackshacks are jam packed | |
| My mad stacks, show that I' m on the right track, like Amtrak | |
| So stand back, cause I' ma make whatever it takes | |
| to shake Jakes, and shoot snakes, and bake more snowflake cakes than Drake' s | |
| Cut up your grill like I' m the Barber of Seville | |
| Still like Gotti bodies are found inside the harbor cause I' m ill | |
| It' s war, but no more kids are bein kidnapped, matter of fact | |
| ain' t with the shit black, I was young when I did that | |
| There' s dope in the Copa Cabanas, cock back the hammers | |
| So niggaz in pajamas get they wigs split like bananas | |
| Stable of hotties, niggaz with shotties catchin bodies | |
| Neighborhood John Gotti with more notes than Pavarotti | |
| Yeah, paid as a mother in bank teller | |
| The Goodfella, I stay a mother in drug seller | |
| Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap, B1 G and B alternate | |
| adlib to outro |
| zuò cí : Alston, Carey, Hancock ... | |
| Ninetyfive, keep it live | |
| Yeah to make papers, knahmsayin? | |
| Mother in Kool G. Rap and B1 | |
| and my mother in man Grimm | |
| Just comin with somethin to keep the brainstem | |
| .. | |
| B1 | |
| It' s Big 1 son, Jamaica Queens is the turf | |
| And I' ma exploit, heaven and earth, for what it' s worth | |
| It' s the MC extrordinaire, the jewels glare | |
| The God is rare, I' m takin bitches back to my lair | |
| I want mines and yours, strippin niggaz to they drawers | |
| No probable cause, with the chrome double 4' s | |
| It' s the Queens New Yorker with a bulletproof parka | |
| In eightyfour, it was Calvins and British Walkers | |
| Now I' m sippin Harvey' s Bristal Cream with the glock 17 | |
| as the sirens race to the scene | |
| Tryin to get dough, like Pablo, today, tomorrow | |
| Seats for carro, as I recline in Monte Carlo | |
| I got the game down to a science, it' s the clients | |
| that turn small time hustlers into giants | |
| Three course meal, waitin for my appetizer | |
| Blowin like a geyser, time only makes me wiser | |
| Paraphenalia, and material, makes the crew imperial | |
| I put the fear in you, sippin beer with two | |
| Handlin business properly, form a monopoly | |
| Storefront property, if not, another robbery | |
| I' m puttin forth the effort, murder' s the method | |
| The steak is peppered | |
| Son when I let off you meet your Lord and shepherd | |
| Bloody money gets niggaz deaded and wetted | |
| Don' t forget it, money' s the metal and my hand is magnetic | |
| Chorus: Grimm, B1 | |
| I gotta flip these bricks | |
| cause bein broke drive me insane | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain | |
| From OZ' s to ki' s | |
| the triple beam brings fame to my name | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain | |
| Niggaz be scheamin and teamin | |
| but still I maintain | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain | |
| Cause money and murder go hand in hand | |
| It ain' t nothin but a game | |
| Money' s on my mother in brain son | |
| Grimm | |
| Cryin hopin God forgive me for the ones I killed | |
| But until still, I dry my eyes with hundred dollar bills | |
| Like McDonald' s, makin mills servin | |
| a Landcruiser now, pulls a nbsp? to Suburban | |
| Stressed out, sittin thinkin past bed time | |
| Scared can' t sleep, nightmares about fed time | |
| Diamonds, linens, ostrich and all that | |
| Fat shit I' m talkin code cause my phone' s tapped | |
| Crackheads worship me like I' m Jesus | |
| Uncle Sam can' t stand me cause I' m in all his nieces | |
| Cuties every colour, who I wanna next? | |
| Buy a new car, maybe Lamborghini trunk next | |
| Look at the jealousy in the eyes of the roughnecks | |
| Bulletproof glass just in case they wanna buck Tecs | |
| A large ratio in this game dies | |
| But I' m flippin pies, til the Senate legalize | |
| Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap same lines | |
| Kool G. Rap | |
| I' m sportin flavors and Timbs, a ninetyfive Bezn with the chrome rims | |
| Presedential Rolex, two carat diamonds with the stone gems | |
| Pockets filled with lucci leather wallets designed by Gucci | |
| Parlay in resteraunts, eatin shrimp, scampi and sushi | |
| Fly minks, with icicles that blink inside cuban links | |
| Lookin nbsp?, brothers stink, got loot like I' m doin banks | |
| Hundred dollar bottles of chammy, condos in Miami | |
| Front row seats up at the Grammy' s, the broke niggaz can' t stand me | |
| Hold the flame low, hotel suites inside the Flamingo | |
| Just home by the dingos, I step up in em rockin Kangols | |
| Straight up fakin no jacks, cause all my crackshacks are jam packed | |
| My mad stacks, show that I' m on the right track, like Amtrak | |
| So stand back, cause I' ma make whatever it takes | |
| to shake Jakes, and shoot snakes, and bake more snowflake cakes than Drake' s | |
| Cut up your grill like I' m the Barber of Seville | |
| Still like Gotti bodies are found inside the harbor cause I' m ill | |
| It' s war, but no more kids are bein kidnapped, matter of fact | |
| ain' t with the shit black, I was young when I did that | |
| There' s dope in the Copa Cabanas, cock back the hammers | |
| So niggaz in pajamas get they wigs split like bananas | |
| Stable of hotties, niggaz with shotties catchin bodies | |
| Neighborhood John Gotti with more notes than Pavarotti | |
| Yeah, paid as a mother in bank teller | |
| The Goodfella, I stay a mother in drug seller | |
| Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap, B1 G and B alternate | |
| adlib to outro |
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