High Rollers

Lyrics
[Intro: DJ Drama & Pharrell] Okay this today's lecture On how it should be done Yessir Why I keep having to school y'all niggas? [Verse 1] Yo Behind the door there was Gatman, who was also known for robbin' Aquaman cooked the coke and kept the Supermen saucy A dirty nigga that wasn't known for washin' [?], he didn't care what it cost him Eventually the nigga started cookin' cre-ation nothing but the reverse of 12-B The tumultuous life of Skateboard P I hang with white people, but you don't know me I seen, niggas run down stood over and gunned down One shot up in his arm, then he spun 'round Now how does in front of his son sound? And get this dawg, it was just one round For the ready-rock they smoke that shit on cans I was rockin' flattops and rockin' slip-on Vans Screamin' "Killa dude!", and rolling my pants up As the ghetto bitches mixed the neighbourhood dances up But this wasn't a soft place Friendship villages threw the smile off ya face Trainin' em young, they were schoolin' 'em mane Fifteen killin' niggas, face cool as a fan Told them "The right bullet hole will free one's soul Let you control the block and get a ve-hicle" So I, started pacin' to exit my situation Then I became the basis of Steve Stoute's translation Sure I'm on that brother shit, but I started thinking colorless Like my favorite watch, but I had to get the other wrist Reporters like "Yo, so what you done good?" Fall back bitch, I brought computers to the hood [Hook] Whenever you abide, you above the law Make money money, make money money money Don't even try if you afraid to fall Nigga make money money, make money money money Keep your mommies that'll ride with they thighs taped with the raw Make money money, make money money money Ask police stay fly, keep your gangstas on call So we make money money, make money money money [Verse 2] I got model bitches that drive they own sixes Condos in Paris with million-dollar pictures Smoke like a sailor, drink til she two-up Suckin' my dick because she love the way I grew up Huh? You talkin' to me? You gon' do what? Yes he's got the gat, and he can pull two-up Them shits is mind-blowing Where he grew up they wear rags with they eyes showin' Four in the morning you hear the nines blowin' Armor all on they cars to keep the shine goin' We order cars with special features The two-tone Rolls, the bitch got alopecia Coupe got vitiligo, intended color cycle White and tan and brown, call it Michael I just might go, down to the beach Absorb the heat, pick up a couple freaks And eyes lead them between my sheets Then Isley them right beneath Downstairs right in the lobby I'm not being cocky, but snugglin' is not me [Hook] Whenever you abide, you above the law Make money money, make money money money Don't even try if you afraid to fall Nigga make money money, make money money money Keep your mommies that'll ride with they thighs taped with the raw Make money money, make money money money Ask police stay fly, keep your gangstas on call So we make money money, make money money money [Verse 3] Kilos, C-notes, speedboats pe coastal Cee-lo, we smoke chocha tre ochos That's what eighty-five percent of niggas envision While the real ten percent get caught and go to prison The other five percent, them niggas end up missing Probably on the coast of Belize deep sea fishing Blowin' perfect rings out the Cuban cigar Their daughters turn sixteen, get 'em Italian cars The world is yours, fuck it, how 'bout Mars? I know your mother told ya "Aim for the stars" Let's get right, nigga, cut short the laugh and Get in touch with Habib with the half hand The dopest opium comes from Afghan So let's make millions and blow up like a gas can You wanna shine don't you? Like the rocks glisten But you ain't tryna listen, you on a fuckin' mission [Hook] Whenever you abide, you above the law Make money money, make money money money Don't even try if you afraid to fall Nigga make money money, make money money money Keep your mommies that'll ride with they thighs taped with the raw Make money money, make money money money Ask police stay fly, keep your gangstas on call So we make money money, make money money money
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Credits
- Writers
- Pharrell Williams