Lyrics Juvenile – Filthy Money

Birdman:
Yeah
Stunna
Uptown shit

.40 with the range, sniper with the aim
Playin’ fuckin’ games, nigga bust him in the brains
3rd Ward soldier, live it how we get it
Bust ’em if they playin’, nigga, hood rich, we livin’
We simple ’bout the money, nigga, paper chase, we runnin’
Lay ’em down, bust ’em down, break ’em down, we gunnin’
Filthy ’bout this paper, alligator suede
We livin’ in designer, and ridin’ on them blades, slime

Paper chase, we knew it
Money gang, we blew it
Play around, we shoot it
Nothin’ with me, won’t do it
Playin’ games and we flew it
Nigga know it’s one thing
If we come around, we do it (Rich Gang)
Rich Gang, no barkin’
All that fake playin’, you talkin’
We all about this money gang
You fuck around, we chalkin’
Situation got sticky
Pussy nigga went hold up
Pussy nigga got chalked up
Playin’ with us and got fucked up
3rd Ward to my death, Uptown ’til I die

.40 with the range, sniper with the aim
Playin’ fuckin’ games, nigga bust him in the brains
3rd Ward soldier, live it how we get it
Bust ’em if they playin’, nigga, hood rich, we livin’
We simple ’bout the money, nigga, paper chase, we runnin’
Lay ’em down, bust ’em down, break ’em down, we gunnin’
Filthy ’bout this paper, alligator suede
We livin’ in designer, and ridin’ on them blades, slime

Juvenile:
I’m a bad man, Aaron Rodgers
If you play baseball, you a Dodger
I’m a grown man, y’all niggas toddlers
I travel ’round the world like the Harlem Trotters
I don’t give a fuck about nothin’
It could be somethin’ if a nigga won’t make it out somethin’
Rule number one, no runnin’
Rule number two, keep gunnin’, that’s how I’m comin’
I be in the city up in all the Wards
Fuckin’ ’round downtown, I done caught a charge
On Claiborne, right there by the bridge
They say this mailman winded up in the car
Old school, I should should buy baller walls
See my lil’ homie ‘nem fallin’ off
I don’t like to talk, I don’t talk at all
If you don’t run today, you don’t walk tomorrow
From the bottom, I been through it already
Smokin’ on gas, 93 unleaded
Trapped independent, where the fuckin’ confetti?
Smelly came with the bag and that bitch heavy
Nigga, I’m raw and it can’t be edited
You a bitch, you a bitch too, y’all relatives
Y’all wear Old Spice now, y’all delicate
I don’t even fuck with stupid niggas, I’m prejudiced

Birdman:
.40 with the range, sniper with the aim
Playin’ fuckin’ games, nigga bust him in the brains
3rd Ward soldier, live it how we get it
Bust ’em if they playin’, nigga, hood rich, we livin’
We simple ’bout the money, nigga, paper chase, we runnin’
Lay ’em down, bust ’em down, break ’em down, we gunnin’
Filthy ’bout this paper, alligator suede
We livin’ in designer, and ridin’ on them blades, slime

Rich Gang