Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
I'm King Kong, this my theme song
With Sky on the hook, we touch Kareems Soul
Your team's on, homie dream on
In the movie 'bout pussies you play the lead role
Sensitive rapper, oh sensitive rappers
We meant to get active, we interact with killers and factors
We chillin' with trappers, we in the back with infamous jackers
And infinite clappers whips to the back
We get the shit crackin' exactly like that
The streets give me a hundred dollar credit
Keep it one hundred, nothin' sweet like a fuckin' diabetic
And Hip Hop ain't dead, but radio programmers should be
Fuck it, I just said it, nothing I regretted, unapologetic
This whole rap industry's like a survival quest
And the idiot sittin' behind the desk is your final test
First they'll censor you then tax you like the IRS
Jerk me for my money, you better buy a vest
You better have a iron chest
It's like a couple of pervs with ear fetishes
Fuck what you've heard, you're ear-relevant
Whether jugglin' birds or hustlin' words
For mathematics, we 'bout action, that's numbers and verbs
Yeah
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
I'm a legendary rapper, clap a TEC quick
Blastin' at your baby bassinet
Snap a neck, snatch a necklace
All I see is money, pussy, fame, power
Sixty minute flights through them rain showers
That's because the plane's ours
'Bout to turn these money stacks to algebra
And shotgun your passenger
You're about to take a dirt nap like Africa
And we the fuckin' money team, read it and weep
Ask me why I'm leavin' the D? I'm bob and weavin' the heat
Modesty is the least, while respect is just a catch 22
Give it to get it or expect it, just catch 22
They call me King Karma, I've seen crowns layed down in extreme carnage
Put mean garmets between me and armor
And I ain't even rhymin' man, I'm just being honest man
I would have your body lyin' in your home
While your soul flyin' to the promise land
Bitches actin' like I gotta go home, 'cause I'm in they stomach like sonograms
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Man, nobody talk a nigga like I'm in a wheelchair
You stay tryna walk a nigga, I'm from New York nigga
Pull out, bang 'em with the hawk nigga
Bom bom bom, outlined in chalk nigga
Stick a fork in a nigga, I'm in the gym jumpin' rope
Liftin' weights, spidey mags, speedbags, you can't cope
Every word that I've ever said, you hang on to it
And even though I said it, it wasn't truth, ya ain't gon' do it
'Cause I, write in my books 'cause my books is what I say
And what I say is my life, 'cause the life took away
'Cause the path has been dark for oh so long
Spit it from the heart from the start, it can't go wrong
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money
Make money, make money, money, money
Take money, take money, money, money