the alchemist - making your money lyrics
[hook: mitchy sl!ck]
put the snow in the pyrex pot and smash it
it’s tuesday and they gaffin’, keep making your money
to all my certified p.i.’s in chucks and crushing the box
tell that b-tch to hit the blade and keep making your money
to all my white collar check poppers and fake plastic shoppers
hit the store and keep making your money
break a b-tch, shake the zip, wash the check, cash it
i ain’t mad at cha, homie, keep making your money
[verse 1: xzibit]
this ain’t fiction, i’m not flossin’, i walk in a bank often
a soldier that won’t soften, i’m bustin’, i’m not tossin’
i’m caught, then i’m not talkin’
we bangin’, you just barkin’
what the f-ck are we sparkin’? it’s kush, n-gga, stop coughin’
got money like bin laden, won’t see me in no coffin
pump fakin’ and sh-t talkin’, the chickens, they been hawkin’
to my n-ggas that’s still walkin’, let it do what it do, partner
get your weight up and stay up, keep making your money
this is business, it’s not pleasure
you n-ggas will not, never
ever be on my level, never; it’s deep and you can’t measure
i’m smelling like movie money, you smelling like english leather
the west can be taken over if n-ggas could get together
i say what i say clever, so now we can do whatever
bring out the heavy metal to settle the vendetta
i came with a gameplan and left in a gray phantom
don’t worry ‘bout me, keep making your money
[verse 2: mitchy sl!ck]
in the land where the bandanna’s the code
and n-ggas that never roll get chuck t’s in their -ssh0l-
an opportunity to stand where the cracker go
is not given to these hustlers, it’s smashed for
only provens get to serve on the local block
swerve, drop turns in something candy without no top
i hear the hate in the streets from ‘cross town
say they want my head, they musta heard i got a gt, uh
i wonder if they heard i got me some heat
some sh-t so big it look like it should ride on back of a jeep
making your money, n-gga, or watch me do me
flaming red 750 with the offset feet
[hook: mitchy sl!ck]
put the snow in the pyrex pot and smash it
it’s tuesday and they gaffin’, keep making your money
to all my certified p.i.’s in chucks and crushing the box
tell that b-tch to hit the blade and keep making your money
to all my white collar check poppers and fake plastic shoppers
hit the store and keep making your money
break a b-tch, shake the zip, wash the check, cash it
i ain’t mad at cha, homie, keep making your money
[verse 3: mitchy sl!ck]
add it, multiply it, however, n-gga, we just
find who supplies it and buy it
saran wrap it, get the y.b.’s to drive it
before law did that punk sh-t, we used to just tie it and fly it
via a bia’s back, soon as i hear
touchdown from the homies, we back low-ridin’
life of a cali blow salesman, homies need guns and lawyers
so i stay mailing feathered friends
down south to my relatives and them
so who am i to judge baby girl for selling trim?
long as a baybay got new j’s in the trim
i’ma tell her keep hustling, keep making your money
but watch for the fettucines, ‘cause nowadays
they paying these broke n-ggas to blab about all the lamborghinis
[hook: mitchy sl!ck]
put the snow in the pyrex pot and smash it
it’s tuesday and they gaffin’, keep making your money
to all my certified p.i.’s in chucks and crushing the box
tell that b-tch to hit the blade and keep making your money
to all my white collar check poppers and fake plastic shoppers
hit the store and keep making your money
break a b-tch, shake the zip, wash the check, cash it
i ain’t mad at cha, homie, keep making your money
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