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lirik lagu tonk for the money freestyle – theodore nicholas

[verse 1: theodore]

been in cl-ss a hour only twenty on the wall clock
put the green between then we seal it like a hallmark
ahhhhhhhhhhhh d-mn!
been in cl-ss a hour only twenty on the wall clock
put the green between then we seal it like a hallmark
all cards to me, i’m wearing all-stars or 2-3’s
i call all my groupies they line up like loose leaf
heroin flow, i should have signed to atlantic
i get fresh off the boat and they thank god i landed
got me talking ’bout dope, while i’m thinking ’bout mansions
all of these songs i wrote, instead of notes while on campus
should i buy me some weed, should i buy me some candy
know that i can do both and k!ll the coast like i’m sandy
say i’m over the andes, cause my spokes are on camby
smoke in testarossas that my chauffeur drove here i’m fancy

plus i got russian spies looking at me
rushing by a dozen guys and they couldn’t grab me
hit staples finna go get elastics
staple in the game like windows covered in plastic
colder than alaska in the summer
and a problem like a b-st-rd to a mother
championship match look like a d-mn mismatch
never let go of this belt cause my pants on sag

[verse 2: nicholas]

sunrise, forecasted
pay me, fore-thousands
cut it out, foreskin
my b-lls swing, fore caddy

more brandy, i’m with brandy
that’s not her name, but she be randy
that’s not my game, but d-mn i’m random
you don’t know my name, d-mn that’s handy

don’t know what to say, but d-mn he’s handsome
on the web, all day chris hansen
on intern sh-t, all data crunching
i’m not no star, all day i’m dancing

now all they say is d-mn son
nah, except for the dim ones
your sh-t’s dingy, you dim son
i’m not dim, but got parmesan

if you’re fed up, c-ck beretta
so f-cked up on amphetamines
mix the feta with the ketamine
roll up with no less than seven g’s
skinny jeans, like its the seventies
sprite in my cup, grenadine
ambition, heredity
than martin luther, i have better dreams

i’m not losing it
i’m just not lutheran
talk music george lucas
not a hipster, just futuristic

your lyrics is
just food for b-tches
my sh-t is food for distance
many names like for instance

martin luther kofi kingston

[verse 3: a.warren.svp]

i say what the f-ck i want!
bout to tell a story!
tell a f-ckin’ novel!

sun is going down round friday 6 pm
looking to hit the city know i always run them
got a bad b-tch in my pocket that i’m tryna bang
she come to my door hear my f-cking doorbell rang
take her downtown treat her like the sh-t
show her off in style make everyone know she my chick
pull up to the club at one keys to the valet
depending on the bottles how long i’m gonna stay (mmm)
ho on my arm support me while i sway (mmm)
somewhere outside i try to pick up my fancy whip
bugatti is gone and the n-gga i left my keys with
don’t usually f-ck with 5-0 but that three mill
some investigation my b-tch set up the whole deal
lesson learned don’t let that -ss get in the way of reason
if i ever see her again i’ll be charged with something worse than treason
don’t stop believing b-tch
always love each other stay positive follow me on twitter

- theodore nicholas

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