เนื้อเพลง Bout My Money - Trick Daddy

[Trick Daddy]
Let's see, what to do today?
F*ck that I'm goin to get my money

This one in a.. Thuggin memory
That thug n*gga
Hollywood n*gga
I did this one in that n*gga name
Hollywood n*gga, yall remember that mutha f*ckin name

This bout that mutha f*ckin money
N*GGA!!!!!!

To kill for c*caine and get a n*gga killed
And a banana peel will get his whole hide flipped
He's bringin danger to the life of his home boy's
You can see the moon, but don't let him go alone boy
Bout My Money, we goin to bump heads and it wont be long
That's why I got two choppers, one for the car, and one for the home
Got extra grip for when they hold on
Nextel, instead of these dial tones
and quarter game for these old tapped ass cell phones
And new back bone for my new dread homes
You aint been outta jail long, but n*gga you dead wrong
Bout my money, n*gga you shouldn't a played wit it
You're goin to remember the day when this A.K hit ya.

Chorus:

Bout my money
That sh*t there aint nothin funny
Don't start duckin and runnin when it go to gunnin bout my money
And sonny, don't be stuntin and lookin funny
When I ask about my mutha f*ckin money
That sh*t there aint nothin funny
Don't start duckin and runnin when it go to gunnin bout my money
And sonny, don't be stuntin and lookin funny
Have my mutha f*ckin money

[Trick Daddy]
I read in the Book of Thugs, Chapter A.K Verse 47
And it tells me all thugs n*ggas go to heaven
But between the lines of verses 48 and 9
Is what ya thug n*gga's, drug dealin and doin time
But verse 100, talks bout my money
Say's its full of blood so all memphis is funny
But n*gga I don't want to hold your gold
I just want to free your soul
And be found somewhere in public when all this sh*t unfolds
I done gave ya two bricks, and you aint gave me back sh*t
You runnin around in your new bubble lights
When verse sit lookin sick
I aint here to hold ur sing, I just want my cream
and you can keep your little watch and ring that go bling bling

Chorus

[Trick Daddy]
Now all this huffin and puffin
aint goin to get you young f*ck n*gga's nothin
But a sh*t bag and bullet holes through your bloody clothes
Out of all the n*gga's you mutha f*ckin know
I should have been the last n*gga you want to muthaf*ckin know
I'll meet ya at your front door, and im bringin my calico
N*gga if u aint got my flow ur ass gotta go
We'll get you mammy and all and layin em down on the front room floor
Bout to do em all cuz I done have problems bout all this sh*t unfolden
Bout my money, I came at it, and your son ain't have it
Now this n*gga I owe is goin to be the next n*gga to go
I only got 20 G's, and I owe 'em 84
It ain't my muthaf*ckin fault, I'm short bout 64
This n*gga aint goin to f*ck me no more

(Trick talking)

Chorus