Imma Get Me Sum lyrics

[Chorus: Project Pat]
Money, this that sh*t these robbers out here blast for
Money, this that sh*t these b*tches clapping ass for
Money, this that sh*t a n*gga living fast for
I'ma get me some, I'ma get me some
Money, this that sh*t these robbers out here blast for
Money, this that sh*t these b*tches clapping ass for
Money, this that sh*t a n*gga living fast for
I'ma get me some, I'ma get me some

[Verse 1: Project Pat]
Only thing I know is get money, I got to have that
Quick to put that chopper in your life, b*tch, where that bread at?
I don’t want to rob, but I promise you that I will though
I'ma do whatever I got to to pay these bills, ho
These n*ggas say I’m rapping, but I could be trapping
A round of applause the way these nines get to clapping
A lot of y’all broads pillow talking with these bros
And telling all your business, pus*y n*gga, naw
I never tell my business to a ratchet ho
Oh nut gobbling sl*tty b*tch, all she want is blow
And money’s everything, got my ride sitting clean
Boy, if you ain't seen a half a million you ain't seen sh*t

[Chorus: Project Pat]
Money, this that sh*t these robbers out here blast for
Money, this that sh*t these b*tches clapping ass for
Money, this that sh*t a n*gga living fast for
I'ma get me some, I'ma get me some
Money, this that sh*t these robbers out here blast for
Money, this that sh*t these b*tches clapping ass for
Money, this that sh*t a n*gga living fast for
I'ma get me some, I'ma get me some
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Baking soda my trick, making noise on my strip
f*ck her while she snorts salt, my di*k hard as a brick
I'm the man moving that boy, Camero my new toy
Exclusive clientele, so hard Dan Aykroyd
I rubber band my check, Susan Summers all on my neck
Chevy running like a Corvette, still war ready on deck
And money bag on your head, they coming straight for your neck
n*ggas stepping over your kids and running up in your nest
Louis shoes are all checkered, dollar bills are my chess
Bare [?] on my neck, smooth [?]

[Chorus: Project Pat]
Money, this that sh*t these robbers out here blast for
Money, this that sh*t these b*tches clapping ass for
Money, this that sh*t a n*gga living fast for
I'ma get me some, I'ma get me some
Money, this that sh*t these robbers out here blast for
Money, this that sh*t these b*tches clapping ass for
Money, this that sh*t a n*gga living fast for
I'ma get me some, I'ma get me some

[Verse 3: Juicy J]
WHO, walk in the bank!? WHO, open the safe!? WHO, I don't have account
WHO, my sh*t in the safe!? Passcode, bombproof
Ebola-proof, New York Times want a photo shoot? Double XL want to write reviews?
Sixty minutes, with Barbara Walters, f*ck would I do? I did it
I had to get it, you won’t see my goons, got a thousand midgets
With text on 'em, I send a text to 'em, to hide in your crib and send a text back
They put rattle snakes in your baby’s crib, Bushwick Bill, the ugliest n*ggas
That kill, I'm laughing, I'm counting my money with cheers, BURRRRR, you n*ggas is her's -
b*tch made, C section with a switch blade, stupid
I go buy Rav', you talking sideways? I’m parking that b*tch, in your baby driveway
How do I do it, that's how I stunt on a hater, f*ck would I do else?
f*ck what I knew, f*ck what I do, if I ain't doing Juicy J to the fullest?
That Juicy J carrying metric tons, since I was thirteen, watching Pat in the coke game
'Til I grew up shouting Three-Six (MAFIA!), fifty-million dollars in the basement (MAFIA!)
I buy your connect on an iMessage, b*tch don’t flood my emails
Juicy J, I never fly alone, my weed got frequent, flier mileage
(Money!)