"Bout My Money" lyrics - E-40

E-40

"Bout My Money"

[Verse 1: E40]
Fetti focused, I'm focused on my fetti mayne
I don't think these suckers really understand
There's enough money out there for all of us to have
But suckers don't wanna see other brothers get cash
I'm from the mud, Halloween mask and surgical gloves
Where there's more hate than love, where clients plot on their plug
Turn on their own flesh and blood, do em dirty just like a rug...
Hard looks and mugs, bandannas and grudge
Five point five sixes and fifty caliber slugs
Half of these bitches will get you killed at the club
But you dodge for push ups or you can you pay me in bud
Or some booger sugar better bet I get it off I'm a thug
She got a big butt (big butt)
Some high heels (high heels)
I pull up in the house, on wheels
I got a couple zaps of some good kill
She like the way I rap she know that I'm for real (BIIAATCH)

[Hook: E-40]
Bout my money, bout my money
Bout my money, bout my money
Bout my money, bout my money
Bout my money, bout my money
Bout my money, bout my money
Bout my money, bout my money
Bout my money, bout my money
Bout my money, bout my money

[Verse 2: Too Short]
I got a pocket full, I'm a Taurus, you can't stop the bull
Whenever I spit my game, I make a whole lot then spend that change
And even if you make more, you can't knock bitches like playboy Short
I keep pouring shots, I keep these whores hot
So bring me two more bottles, got the finest women but I don't fuck no models
Bad girls is what I prefer, she take your shit, there's no stopping her
Aggressive women that swing both ways
And throwin panties on the stage
I put this dick in her mouth, she ain't resist
Didn't pay her, so it can't be this. (BIIAATCH)

[Bridge: Jeremih]
Step- step in the club throwin paper today
Now I'm cuttin your girl, call it Papier-m'che
Head down, no-nothing to say
Everything she want but a kiss on her face
Fifth of that Henny got me sippin' the Privvy
Yeah I ordered that pussy then she came here delivered
Damn right I'm a charge her 'cause she right in my hand
Actin a fool, so I gave her a Emmy

[Verse 3: Turf Talk]
My lingo produce payroll
Yeah, that Benz that I drive all paid for
It's all good, everything Gucci now
But it came a long way from them hand me downs
Yeah it's all good, steak every other night
But it came a long way from that beans and rice
Bitches pay us, they support us
Broke hoes holla, but they can't afford us
I'm color blind, so I two-toned it
And I can stretch out, ain't got no roof on it
We don't love hoes, knock a bitch down
Put your face to the glass like Chris Brown
Take a picture bitch, Polaroid
They juiced up, my pockets on steroids
I know some niggas that'll kill, dog
For the dollar dollar bill y'all

[Jeremih continued]
Throw it, throw it, you know the sound
Broke and you a sucker that's the shit we don't allow
Is the baddest of the bitches out there somewhere in the crowd?
If she got it how I want it then I put my money down

Down, down, throw my money down
Down, down, I put my money down
Down, down, if she baddest down
She got it and I want it then I put my money down
Bitch