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BIG MOE : Cash lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

BIG MOE lyrics : "Cash"

[Chorus: Noke D]
I'm talking cash, ^!$$%
Gripping grain, swanging lanes

We talking cash, ^!$$%
Candy paint on all them Range
We talking cash, ^!$$%

Don't try to stop my shine
We talking cash, ^!$$%
Cause I tussle on the mind

I'm talking cash, ^!$$% [x4]

[Big Moe]
It's Big Moe I stepped up in the door
Out the Southside (*##$ I'm far from a hoe

I ain't even scared and you know I'm down to wreck it
I'ma hit the bed Moe-Yo gone get naked
Got to strap my glock, got to strap my ding-a-ling

Out the Southside, Moe-Yo gone sing sing
I'ma swing swing, crawl down slow
It's that Big Moe and you know I'm no hoe

I'ma knock down that hoe Toni Braxton
It's Moe-Yo come down there hating hoes I'm taxing
?Slacking sleeping off? you can't be talking about my click

You know it's Wreckshop, hating hoes be on dick
It's that boy Moe, I'm out the Southside
I done came down, Moe-Yo I'm gone chop

Ain't gone stop to the T-O-P
I creep I'm putting it down from the M-O to the E
My ^!$$% Noke Deezy, all about his cheezy

It's the Moe-Yo claim #[email protected] got to be greasy
Got to keep it wet, on the mic I be's a vet
I'm coming down five thousand gotta get my check

If you want me to be on your song, or sing a damn hook
It gotta be five grand (*##$ I'm coming down cool
With my ^!$$% what Blue U

Out the Southside, M-O-E a damn fool
With my partner D-Reck, hoes they been checked
It's that Wreckshop, earning paper and our respect

And my brother K-Luv, my ^!$$% Big Toon
Knocking down soon, Moe-Yo gotta get a room
At the end of the $#&@ing night, I'm gone be $#&@ing

It's that Moe coming down, I do the gangsta strutting
My ^!$$% King One, let's have fun
My partners Keke, Weets, the Lil Red coming down on hard

My ^!$$% High G, you know he's down with me
M-O to the E, from the 1, 2, 3
The Wreckshop tree, that's where I be from

Partner Silly Yo coming down on $#&@ing hard


[Pimp C]
Since I was 17, I've been sipping on sip

(*##$ ^!$$%s come through empty out the clip
I love old school cars, with candy $$# paint
Your other ^!$$%s [email protected]#( cause them other ^!$$%s fake

You hollin' you a killa but I know you ain't no killa
I see you in the street (*##$ I'm a trill $$# ^!$$%
And now since the eighties, putting ^!$$%s down

Letting mother$#&@ers hear all that bass around
I ride an Impala, don't pop my collar
Coming through the record company, want all my dollas

You ain't got my paper (*##$, you don't get no dick
And I ain't put my dick in the uh you wrecked
Cause tramp hoes be talking, on the pilla walking

Out the street get them hoes, telling em bout all your clothes
And your car sitting on gold, and how much you get at shows
You shouldn't trust that (*##$, that (*##$ will get you hit

I see it all the time, (*##$es get knocked on the grind
Keep it ten with that wife, coming back in the middle of the night
Say (*##$ you need to stop, you need to sell some @@#!

You need to get off them rocks, and get on private yachts
I'm talking bout they cousin, coming through (*##$es buzzing
Drinking on hennessy, (*##$ you don't know Pimp C

You late on the slab, coming through whipping $$#
I whip it up in the lab, and put it out like it's dark around


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