Bet Money lyrics

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
Break a 9 to a bunch of dimes then you grind up
Money got me showin my ass can't even hold my pants up
20 n*ggas standin on the Flat all getting off
Found a junkie dead in Brooke Lake with his hands sawed
Try me in the 6 I'm gone raise this 45 up
Shave a brick put it back together that's a lineup
Remix the chick use a little cut that's a temp fade
And if he got a chopper never ever bring a switchblade
I'm a multimillionaire I gotta couple hundred on me
And I'm a mack I tote a strap I make you stick yourself like tony
I'd give a n*gga my whole stash if he can take this jewelry off me
And I'm so bossy in my office smoking Kush and sipping coffee

[Chorus: K Camp]
They said I couldn't get rich out here bet money
All that sideline talk don't make no money
Bout that bread y'all n*ggas out here too funny
Hit yo b*tch then leave her with no money
They said I couldn't get rich out here bet money
All that sideline talk don't make no money
Bout that bread y'all n* out here too funny
Hit yo b*tch then leave her with no money

[Verse 2: K Camp]
Money is the motive if you speak it then I'm with ya
Any sideline n*gga they get cropped out the picture
If you ask me yeah I'm ready
Got your ho on a mission
Catch me running through your city like a damn politician
Boy I'm all about a check
She don't ask no questions
Boy she all about the neck
Say she wanna crash
So I let my partners wreck
Lookin at a n*gga that stay flyer than a jet
They don't hear me yet
I'mma get that check bet money
Y'all n*ggas out here funny
You know a young n*gga on the go
Gotta have that green like Gumby
I'm a fool with the dough too clumsy
On the clock Monday through Sunday
Everyday I gotta get that money
And I learned that from the big homie
[Chorus: K Camp]
They said I couldn't get rich out here bet money
All that sideline talk don't make no money
Bout that bread y'all n*ggas out here too funny
Hit yo b*tch then leave her with no money
They said I couldn't get rich out here bet money
All that sideline talk don't make no money
Bout that bread y'all n* out here too funny
Hit yo b*tch then leave her with no money

[Verse 3: Gucci Mane]
I'm like LL in I'm Bad gripping that f*cking walkie talkie
Then you lost me when you said you'd never cross me then you crossed me
And these hoes catch the vapors like Biz Markie
And since they brought me these keys, n*ggas idolize me
Critics criticize me, haters sabotage me
I get angry then I come through in a camouflaged v
Better recognize that my killers ain't gonna jeopardize me
I know these f*ck n*ggas wish they could paralyze me

[Chorus: K Camp]
They said I couldn't get rich out here bet money
All that sideline talk don't make no money
Bout that bread y'all n* out here too funny
Hit yo b*tch then leave her with no money
They said I couldn't get rich out here bet money
All that sideline talk don't make no money
Bout that bread y'all n*ggas out here too funny
Hit yo b*tch then leave her with no money