My pupils are turning green
that loot, that coin, that greed
money doesn't grow on trees
**** straight, but I throw cash
on eighths, domed so my foot
don't hit the brake.
high on the way, I don't tail gate
I pass
Hear a bump in my trunk
my stash,
rattlin' around to the amp,
off that ramp, round the corner to the
courthouse,
sippin' on a shake
bought with food stamps
**** this I'm out
home to crash on the couch
and scheme
cream, cream, I want my cheese
stacked like chedda' on the line
at my minimum wage grind
Cops gave me a fine
like I got time to pay that ****
can't blame 'em though
they tryin' to get what I got
in my pocket
my wallet
you called it
Money