Money Cash Clothes Lyrics – The Game
Singer: The Game
Title: Money Cash Clothes
Ayy, Swizz, lemme talk to ’em
It’s game time, what the AP said
Shoutout to every bad b#tch that gave me head
“f#ck you” to every n#gg# that pray me dead
I’m alive, you gotta deal with me, JAY Z dreads
Drop the top, let the AZ spread
Tell every rapper ‘cept him and Nas to come and break me bread
My morale cannot be stepped on
I’m the real middle child, n#gg#s get smoked like all the roaches I done slept on, don’t get me started
Who am I? I am the big homie to Lil Wayne Carter
They tryna throw the book at blood, but I’m the author
I can still say Nine Tray and my bandana stretch farther than New York
It’s like I’m walkin’ on water how I end up in Heathrow
With the Draco inside of my joggers
Til’ I’m back on the West side with my gun
Livin’ in Conway, Butcherin’ Swizz Beatz, and beef is always the entrée
Sup, André, far as the rest of you n#gg#s
Slide on you, mask on, n#gg#, I’m Ye
Yeah, style on you b#tches, flyin’ birds before OVO put the owl on the stitches, I’ve been in the mix
DeLeon with the FN on, it’s hit or miss
They sayin’ “rest in peace” ’cause I let it rip
I used to rock it ASAP when I flick the wrist
Now this n#gg# A$AP Rocky hoppin’ in the whip
Uh, yeah (A$AP n#gg#)
n#gg# Harlem World to the west coast n#gg#
You know how fly n#gg#s collide (Zombie on the track)
Uh
Coupe De Ville money (What), hooper deal money (What)
New face hunnids, honey, we don’t peel twenties (What)
Blue face, my boo cakes will probably steal from me (Cmon)
In a new place but got dudes that shoot and kill for me (Yeah)
They look and stare funny (Yeah), but them hookers still love me (Yeah)
Do it for the shooters cause the shooters feel for me (Oh)
I do it for the b#tches, make ’em boost and steal for me (Yeah)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes
Pi’erre goons with the [?]
In your coupe doing burnouts (Skrt)
Make your boo wear the perm up (Oooh)
Pretty n#gg# that you heard bout me (Ooh)
Ya heard, I heard you heard a word around the curb (Yeah)
I took your bird out, she be with bad hoes
I just f#ck to get the word out (Ooh)
Special announcement (Uh huh)
New Loewe on the way, can you pronounce it? (b#tch)
You cop the clothes they give away, I’m in my house with (b#tch)
I’m with your housewife, trying on my outfits, taking off her blouses
More money, more cash, more clothes (What)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (Cmon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (What)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (What)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Rocky, you got Riri, let me have dem now
Balenciaga bomber coat, I take hand me downs
Especially if it’s from A$AP, Harlem World, Mase back
Hit ’em with the Diddy Glock .9, tell ’em take that
He always keep the clips on him, marble floor, tip-toein’
AP got the crib glowin’, yeah
Now she naked in the Rick Owens
I’m runnin’ round the mansion with the blick showin’
Calvin Klein briefs with my dick showin’
All black Prada bucket and I got a Chrome Heart
Virgil died and not a inch of Louis, now we Goyard
Go hard, Avirex leather with the [?] logo
[?] in the carriage, [?] is comin’ through ’em Polo
Hundred in the black whip, hundred in the tail [?]
Rapper game, Gucci’d down when I was on welfare
[?] slidin’ across the stage, the Grammy award goes
Anything is possible, Drake got cornrows
More money, more cash, more clothes (What)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (Cmon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (What)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (What)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Now my insulation cost a Maybach
Yeah and your intuition costs like eight racks
Yeah and my intuition got me laid back
f#ck your intermission, b#tch it’s A$AP
n#gg# word to Game’s butterfly face tat, where he got L.A. at
Send a couple bloody guys to slide where you lay at
So hide where you stay at, reside where you pray at
You scared, go to church
This ain’t a purse, it’s a murse n#gg#
Nah, son, this ain’t a Maybach
This a hearse, n#gg#
Tell her that the Birkin ain’t a gift, it’s a curse, n#gg#
Hit ’em where it hurt, pull up right where your fam lay
My alibi? I was with A$AP on Yams day
[?] homecoming when the draco let the band play
Gold inside the lamb chop, this the Killa Cam way
Free Gunna, free Thug, that’s all I can say
They tryna hit a n#gg# with the RICO off a handshake
More money, more cash, more clothes (What)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (Cmon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (What)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (What)
More money, more cash, more clothes (Cmon)
Find more lyrics at lyrics.jspinyin.net
You can purchase their music thru
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases
Other Popular Songs:
The Halo Effect - Last Of Our Kind
Hacelen Royer - Sweet Lover
Lyrics The Game – Money Cash Clothes
Kindly like and share our content. Please follow our site to get the latest lyrics for all songs.
We don’t provide any MP3 Download, please support the artist by purchasing their music 🙂
You can purchase their music thru