Get Money, Spend Money, No Money

Yeah Gangsta Uh Verse 1: Ice Cube Tell me all my children 'Fore I come through, is the hood in the building Yes You won't believe what I'm dealin' This West coast shit, oh what a feelin' Ah Niggas think I'm drug dealin' 'Cause I roll by with no motherfuckin' ceiling none Is he worth a hundred million No need to ask Ice Cube how I'm livin' How ya livin' loc I still got the recipe South Central LA is the pedigree Don't try to tell me what it better be I have your ass up in physical therapy I outlaw like a Cherokee The rap industry tried to bury me But if I died on the mic up at Larry B I'm so heavy, you bitches couldn't carry me Chorus: Ice Cube Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie, throw it up Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie, throw it up Verse 2: Ice Cube I don't accept no disrespect Only thing I expect is self-check Just grin and bury it Got an ass-whoopin' that your ass don't wanna inherit Most rappers are parrots They say what they told to say, to get a neck full of karats Got your mama embarrassed How long 'fore they callin' us, terrorists Nigga, I'm serious I, keep it gangsta but it keeps a job 'Cause, it's, hard to sleep when you steal and rob And ya, got to run here comes the blob 'Cause, Uncle Sam is like part of the Mob Break yourself, he'll take your wealth Don't get it twisted, you a motherfuckin' elf And Santa Claus will go for self All you got is your balls and your health Chorus Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie, throw it up Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie. throw it up Verse 3: Ice Cube Niggas brag about what they got But we don't own a skyscraper, now that's paper Now that's paper One generation from slums Happy for these little crumbs, you little bums We saw you pull up, but nigga shut up Shut up You always talkin' about a fuckin' car or truck You always talkin' about some fuckin' rims or interior That kind of shit'll keep our ass inferior I'm tryin' to eat tomorrow Ain't tryin' to hear about the little bitty shit you bought Saw your little bitty house on Cribs Where you fuck your wife, and feed your kids Uh, uh Nigga be quiet, ain't shit private Everything for sale, you can buy it All this self-snitchin', all this self-tellin' Motherfuckers goin' back to the watermelon Chorus Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie, throw it up Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie, throw it up Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie, throw it up Get money, spend money, no money, lookin' like a dummy I really don't give a fuck Your money ain't my fuckin' money, got a pocket full of money Come on homie, throw it up