Get Money Nigga - Gucci Mane feat Meek Mill

Meek Milly
From ATL to Philly
N_gga, real recognize real
Yeah, we hood rich b_tch
Trap God, turn us up

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
I'm a money getting n_gga
At least, that's just what I'm known for
You better call on my connect
And ask him what he put me on for
I heard y'all n_ggas ballin'
Then why the f_ck you take a loan for?
Better get the f_ck out East Atlanta
You n_ggas know you don't belong there
All my n_ggas smoking strong here
We don't talk reckless on the phone here
A lot of cliques don't get along here
Bricksquad my nig, we rock our own gear (Squad)
I'm on the crib, sittin on the lawn chair
I hope that you don't read me wrong
But if I go pull out that tone, there
I bet that you don't make it home
I'm in the trap house with my long johns
And I been trapping all day long
They call me Baking Soda Armstrong
Before it dry, that sh_t be gone
[Hook: Gucci Mane and Meek Mill]
I'm a money getting n_gga
(Money getting n_gga)
At least, that's just what I'm known for
(That's just what I'm known for)
You better call up my connect
(My connect)
And ask him what he put me on for
(What he put me on for)
I heard y'all n_ggas ballin'
Then why the f_ck you take a loan for?
(Loan for)
(You better stay up out of Philly, n_gga
You know you pussies don't belong here)

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
Rose gold on my bottom six
Half a mil on foreign whips
I'm in the wheel with a foreign b_tch
I'm on the bra strap, and she on this d_ck
Just bow down, you lame
Your diamonds look strange
I'm grinding like Wayne
When he on that skateboard, I'm safe
N_gga your new girl's my old b_tch
My old b_tch your new girl
Young lil rich Philly n_gga
Them hoes tell me I'm too thorough
I don't even f_ck one on one
Cause when I come, I need two girls
That's down to f_ck like all night
Get them b_tches that hard pipe
Ridin' with with a ho named Keisha
And we smoking on Keisha
Young n_gga fresh like Easter
Blood dripping on my sneakers
Straight drop, I stick that
I sell a brick, I get back
That Molly look like a Tic Tac
And I tell that ho that I get it back like 'Whoa'


[Verse 3: Gucci Mane]
I drop a bag on yo' head, n_gga
And they'll locate yo' ass like OnStar
I ain't have to buy sh_t, n_gga
My n_gga Waka got his own car
You on my d_ck like you a b_tch, n_gga
Why don't you go and quote yo' own bars?
And I don't want to go back to jail, n_gga
But you gon' make me catch one more charge
I could look and tell you're frail n_gga
But you keep on tryna to look hard
Your friends keep asking "What's the smell, n_gga?"
That's your motherf_cking homeboys


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