Young money, d-town's all star
The engine in back of my car
Look at all this money, ain't that some shit
The dead society of a poet
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars
Mary jane keeps me high like every day
U took all my money and ran away...
The youngest of my mother kids
Spending all my money on lids
Cause i ain't really care what the rest say
So imma chase money all day
Money mayhem got them niggas all goth
Run a cartel like a real rick ross
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