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get money - trench lord lyrics

[intro: rmc mike]
ayy, yeah, huh
n*gga, what?
(ooh, sav k!lled it)
sh*t, sav, that’s what you on?
alright, look, ayy

[chorus: rmc mike]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (hey, alright)

[verse 1: rmc mike]
n*gga see my bank account, he’d probably f*ckin’ faint
brought a hundred out in cash, didn’t even touch the bank
bae, i got so many plays to make, can’t even f*ck today
started from the bottom, but best believe a n*gga up today
like my brother ri, i got some big hips, sh*t, i could tuck a k
if you see me doin’ some sh*t i’m not supposed to, look the other way
gettin’ off with this rap sh*t, i put the dope away
f*ckin’ on a bad b*tch and her p*ssy tastе like ocean spray
every b*tch i know just want a gеt*money n*gga
i’m a boss n*gga first, kit an easy one*fifty
lean*head, what i spent on drank another one*sixty
got 300k in cash, n*ggas can’t even f*ck with me
[verse 2: trench lord]
trench
i keep bread on the floor like a picnic
my gun got a switch on it like a thick b*tch
i pour up drank all day, i like to sip*sip
baggin’ coke got my nails white like french tips
closet full of bands, it’s startin’ to feel like a bank in there
pockets on aretha, you can tell i got franklins there
my son tried to drink some of my pop, it was drank in there
bust a bale down in the kitchen, now it stank in there
runnin’ up them racks whether i scam or i sell dope
it don’t come inside a red can, but i sell coke
make the dope lock, add water like a sailboat
i’d rather get money and f*ck b*tches what i tell folks

[chorus: rmc mike & velly beretta]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (ayy, ayy, alright)

[verse 3: velly beretta & king ca$hes]
f*ck b*tches, get the money, and repeat (yeah)
any n*gga really hate me sick i’m f*ckin’ his freak (ayy)
it’s a couple of ’em really, i’m sick of f*ckin’ ’em each
i’m sick of playin’ it cool, who really f*ckin’ with me? n0body (who f*ckin’ with me?)
huh, i’m fresh as h*ll with a roll on me (yeah)
pullin’ up and jumpin’ out anywhere with the pole on me (bah)
welcomin’ the smoke, i ain’t scared of n*ggas, nope (no)
i ain’t tellin’ n*ggas joke (no), n*ggas petty and they broke (yeah)
fourth quarter, every bucket, every play important (it’s important)
i’m from the trenches, it’s a jungle, every day a stormin’ (stormin’)
i can’t help them, they ain’t no junkies, d*mn, they informants (d*mn)
r.i.p. nip, i’m on my hustle, man, tracy morgan (woo, king), velly
[verse 4: king ca$hes]
already did the overland, i need the wagoneer
light brown, spent enough time with the cavaliers
baby girl see i’m turnt now, say i’m actin’ weird
naw, i’m just straight and i don’t know why you standin’ here
new b*tch, she top shelf, i need the baddest here
tell her she got p*ssy and i want it, baby, hand it here
neiman shoe walker, everything be a stack a pair
stayed so far out the way, a n*gga been done smacked a deer
if you wanna make a statement, n*gga, make a payment
i been up, i been down, so i ain’t complainin’
dropped an ep and sold a ‘bow out the paper station
top five flint in all time, but n*ggas hate to say it, king

[chorus: rmc mike & krispylife kidd]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (alright, alright, krispylife)

[verse 5: krispylife kidd]
ridin’ ’round with the newest k, tryna start a war
get a n*gga whacked fast, i know the art of war
ain’t got time for no p*ssy, got a five on court
drop a hundred at your speedway, i left sh*lls on floor
huh, when i get up in this b*tch, it be scary hours
if i rain on a n*gga block, that’s a scary shower
p*ss me off and we’ll slide every hour
n*ggas know better, load that hundred up and go and drop a dollar
b*tch, they known for sh*t talkin’ and homicides
put holes in that old*ass engine, how the impala ride?
my n*gga own a pillway, yeah, i’m proud of rod
i f*cked the world up real bad, i get idolized
[verse 6: babyfxce e]
in four months and thirty*one days, i was monetized
i passed some big dogs in the game, i apologize
golden child, you would think you was lookin’ from my mama eyes
two dracs, a fifty with a switch’ll leave you traumatized
i mean handicapped
put a pocket in his chest like a f*nny pack
seventy*year*old titties on the glock, i’m bringin’ grannies back
buy a glass house, crib on the lake, i’m bringin’ danny back, n*gga

[chorus: rmc mike]
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money
f*ck b*tches, get money (hey, alright)

- trench lord lyrics

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