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10 December, 2014

All About The Money (Remix) Lyrics by Rick Ross

5:26 AM

(Verse)

Menace to society, cocaine brothers

My dog made three Feds magazine covers

Get shot for the beat, wash up on the beach

Butt naked full of hoes, Timbs on your feet

Ya stressed on the block, cover with the top

Backwards, stay strapped, smokin' in the dark

Sickin' bitch, ya fuckin' ?, how ya writing books?

I'm from the city testify and get yo body took

? rap, tell me cuz I got all the cheese

They had him in his ? now it's time to squeeze

50 stacks of carbon, boy, now pay the penalty

I'll call yo kids, I swear to God, you'll gon' remember me

Word to Piefull, it's time to see my nigga D

In a two seater, in Atlanta, pickin' up me

Ferrari or the Lambo, cuz I got em both

Begin took a chain, next ya know I got em smoked

Neva rob, baby, I'm so foreva mob

I'm out in Vegas at the ponds, playing peddle bomb

Push a button I can turn a bitch to battler raw

Kill yoself and then how ya rat on all ya dawgs?

Play my position, here I am so now it's time to ball

Troy Ave, now it's time to ball

(Hook)

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

(Verse 2: Troy Ave)

I’ll be in the hood trap regular toilet paper in my porch cause I’m shitting

Ninety four & fillmore in the kitchen

Cooking birds nigga saying thanks for giving

Arnold Schwarzengger arm from the whippin'

Arnold Schwarzengger arm from the wipping'

One reply to ya niggas sneak dissin

Suck a dick when you see me, know I’m grippin'

You never seen nothing like this splash brothers with the aim, I wish a nigga would boy

A nigga sleepin with ur misses nigga call me young melo cause scoring its my shit boy

I’m CP3 cause I be dishing and handleling the rock chef cooking with the pot boy

(Hook)

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

(Verse 3: Troy Ave)

No limit to my money I should get a tank

They walk me to the back entering the bank Base running errands, so im givin hanks

That’s a hit, had him hit leave da nigga plank

He got six feet, I got six figures

Nothing less is six shots coming up the hipper

Life a trip, life a gamble I'ma big chipper Thousand dollar hand wrist glitter bitch nigga

You never seen nothing like this splash brothers with the aim, I wish a nigga would boy

A nigga sleepin with ur misses nigga call me young melo cause scoring its my shit boy

I’m CP3 cause I be dishing and handling the rock chef cooking with the pot boy

(Hook)

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

It’s all about the all about the money

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