This is a song about "Money talks"

And that fucker still talks to me he's all i can fuckin' hear

See, my bitch is the type of bitch that gotta keep it real

I run the summer, don't plan on sharing prize

She's a beautiful girl she talks with her eyes

Music is money, money isn't music

Would you capture it, or just let it slip

Not hungry for my poetry

Im in it for the money

This aint drug money, baby it's thug money and love money,

Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see

With hugs and kisses, valentine cards and birthday wishes

It doesn't matter if a rapper talks about all his bitches,

But i kind of like the way that it talks

Ironic cause your lipstick is red, of course

Bolt up my door lock, been hearing money talks

I let you know you dealing with dogs