If you ain't about money
Like an apple from a tree
Iron maidens coins flip like fingers, slip into thick slime
You mean to tell me everything gon be fine
Grow your beard out, just weird out
Get yours; you know what this about
I'm back chillin with a friend of mine
Higher in this messed up muck of slime/
Lips, hips, hair drops down her back, crazy, body frame, crazy
Everyday audacious plea, pick the fruit of the poison tree
Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see
Now im sitting right under that money tree
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