Money Over Bitches - San Quinn

I’m sky ballin', a young California pimp

Loungin' in a stretch Bently sittin low on the tents

Iced down, draped an dipped hittin bomb weed (bomb weed)

Servin' on stega shrimp, sippin' Dom P (Dom P)

Lavishly cordinated

Savagely corporated

On casino, Mr. Gambino’s Mobb affiliated

The world is mine, that’s what I read on a blimp

Playin cops I’m a robber with blue prints to the mint

Didn’t leave no evidence, went back to, my residence

Snatch the Benjamin’s, an all the other dead presidents

My hoochies like to toss me the coochie

Floss me in Gucci

But groupies would never cost me no Loochie

What I look like?

Givin' a hoe all my doe, like she wrote all my flows

Bitch I’m all-pro

You be the same hoe, on the stroll makin' me mo dinero

So tip-toe through the rain, sleet an snow

I gotta get my Money Over Bitches

They want the money, I want my riches

Quinnton mania, hoes I’m tamin' ya

Never praisin ya, never payin ya

Nothin' mo than attention

Havin' paper is an addiction

Your not bringin additions

Then subtract yo self from my jurisdictions

This is how I see it

My crew we be the cleanest

Pushin' Benzes and Beamers

These hoes ain’t pleased to meet us

Pass us Master Cards an Visas

Illegal searches

We smokin' roaches with no crutches

Bitches we cope, from bein' broke and do it like a hustla a

Ain’t no friends we all cousins

Baby networkin'

Money ain’t nothin'

You got it all?

You need to quit perpin'

A quarter million wouldn’t satisfy me

I be a Master like P

And I act like Luni

Only God can do me

Burn a crutch with doobie, approach smoothly

Only ladies with paper amuse me, an broke hoes choose me

But lose bein' in a pursuit of tryin to talk

For the conversation of fuck you and shit bitch it’s goin to cost

I got 2 for 1, from Ya-yo to in-do

Paper now, hoes later, the tradition in Fil-mo

Dime-els, bricks of Ya-yo, coke dealers, crack sales

Niggas that tell on Big Willies

Young killas, bitches that jock, look at 'em stare

Got 'em choosin, got hoes droolin' on a playa

My gold teeth glare, shinnin' like cheese goin «Bling»

Knock Out Playa, K-O-P in the street

I fuck with big timers, ridin' sideways with young thugs

Don’t manipulise, of Fil-mo hood nudge

Shake hood slugs, make hood drugs

Never could, never would a nigga hoe trust

Money Over Bitches

Trust a bitch I never would

Hoe I’m too major

Havin' paper like Tiger Woods

Famous in the Mo

Rob from the rich and slang Ya-yo to the poor

Flippin', manipulate a dumb hoe

For way mo'

I tell 'em BIA-TCH!

I love ballin', how could I be tired of bein' rich?

Been off the hook so long, got disconnected unexpected

And you niggas is wrong for payin' hoes an hoe protectin'