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ain't bout money (remix) - guyana lyrics

[verse 1: guyana]
how should i start this?
i’mma drive the lamborghini till i’m carsick
shows like batteries, i’m charging
all these bottles you would think that i bartend
n*ggas blow my phone up
crispy cream with the bread and my doughnuts
everybody tryna rap, but they flow suck
big s*x, i can’t even make it for once
the rap game, give it over
blowing on purple like i play for minnesota
diamonds looking like a box of crayolas
broke b*tches it’s time to hang it up; poster
broke b*tches i will knock you down; bulldozer
i got so much paper you can’t fit it in a folder
i got so much paper you can’t fit it in my pocket
regardless, i’mma hit the club and start balling

[hook]
if it ain’t about money, don’t call my phone
time is money, so it’s time to go
everything i do, i do it on my own
what you talkin’ bout? now what you talkin’ bout?
if it ain’t about money, don’t call my phone
time is money, so it’s time to go
everything i do, i do it on my own
what you talkin’ bout? now what you talkin’ bout?
[verse 2: guyana]
my money got a hundred legs
and your money’s just running place
trying to count my money, need another day
money, money, money, money, yeah my money great
so i’m bragging, louis bagging
top of the game, call me joe madden
no reebook, but i make classics
sleeping on me go and find yourself a mattress
and tonight will, i’m quite ill
money turn me on like a light bill
all these b*tches fake, keep my ice real
now watch me run the game in some white heels
everybody say guyana’s so nice
stomping on the beat like i’m standing on the mic
alright, ok
getting money, all day

[hook]
if it ain’t about money, don’t call my phone
time is money, so it’s time to go
everything i do, i do it on my own
what you talkin’ bout? now what you talkin’ bout?
if it ain’t about money, don’t call my phone
time is money, so it’s time to go
everything i do, i do it on my own
what you talkin’ bout? now what you talkin’ bout?
[verse 3: foxy brown]
i did burberry, i rocked gucci
but i ain’t rock the hottest sh*t, that’s louis, b*tch!
and all them ballplayer n*ggas wanna screw me
got the l.v. tatted on my coochie!
it’s top fox, brooklyn’s don diva
i’m back b*tch, the industry don’t need ya
two*stepping in my l.v. pumps
i got the belt, the bag and the matching clutch
c’mon!
since ’96 been rocking the fly sh*t
every designer hanging in my closet
ill na na, dark skin, don b*tch
ya’ hoes can gossip, typical bum b*tch
i’m in the club with my little brother mousey
them broke b*tches rocking bags off c*n*l street
but ya’ know that sh*t is kinda foul
lil’ poster chile, you ‘posed to style
c’mon!

- guyana lyrics

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