Kool G Rap

(feat. B1, (MF) Grimm)
Ninety-five, keep it live
Yeah to make papers, knahmsayin?
Motherfuckin Kool G. Rap and B1
and my motherfuckin man Grimm
Just comin with somethin to keep the brainstem
..
[B1]
Its Big 1 son, Jamaica Queens is the turf
And Ima exploit, heaven and earth, for what its worth
Its the MC extrordinaire, the jewels glare
The God is rare, Im takin bitches back to my lair
I want mines and yours, strippin niggaz to they drawers
No probable cause, with the chrome double 4s
Its the Queens New Yorker with a bulletproof parka
In eighty-four, it was Calvins and British Walkers
Now Im sippin Harveys Bristal Cream with the glock 17
as the sirens race to the scene
Tryin to get dough, like Pablo, today, fuck tomorrow
Seats for carro, as I recline in Monte Carlo
I got the game down to a science, its the clients
that turn small time hustlers into giants
Three course meal, waitin for my appetizer
Blowin like a geyser, time only makes me wiser
Paraphenalia, and material, makes the crew imperial
I put the fear in you, sippin beer with two
Handlin business properly, form a monopoly
Storefront property, if not, another robbery
Im puttin forth the effort, murders the method
The steak is peppered
Son when I let off you meet your Lord and shepherd
Bloody money gets niggaz deaded and wetted
Dont forget it, moneys the metal and my hand is magnetic
[Chorus: Grimm, B1]
I gotta flip these bricks
cause bein broke drive me insane
Moneys on my motherfuckin brain
From O-Zs to kis
the triple beam brings fame to my name
Moneys on my motherfuckin brain
Niggaz be scheamin and teamin
but still I maintain
Moneys on my motherfuckin brain
Cause money and murder go hand in hand
It aint nothin but a game
Moneys on my motherfuckin brain son
[Grimm]
Cryin hopin God forgive me for the ones I killed
But until still, I dry my eyes with hundred dollar bills
Like McDonalds, makin mills servin
Fuck a Landcruiser now, pulls a ? to Suburban
Stressed out, sittin thinkin past bed time
Scared cant sleep, nightmares about fed time
Diamonds, linens, ostrich and all that
Fat shit Im talkin code cause my phones tapped
Crackheads worship me like Im Jesus
Uncle Sam cant stand me cause Im fuckin all his nieces
Cuties every colour, who I wanna fuck next?
Buy a new car, maybe Lamborghini trunk next
Look at the jealousy in the eyes of the roughnecks
Bulletproof glass just in case they wanna buck Tecs
A large ratio in this game dies
But Im flippin pies, til the Senate legalize
[Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap - same lines]
[Kool G. Rap]
Im sportin flavors and Timbs, a ninety-five Bezn with the chrome rims
Presedential Rolex, two carat diamonds with the stone gems
Pockets filled with lucci leather wallets designed by Gucci
Parlay in resteraunts, eatin shrimp, scampi and sushi
Fly minks, with icicles that blink inside cuban links
Lookin ?, brothers stink, got loot like Im doin banks
Hundred dollar bottles of chammy, condos in Miami
Front row seats up at the Grammys, the broke niggaz cant stand me
Hold the flame low, hotel suites inside the Flamingo
Just home by the dingos, I step up in em rockin Kangols
Straight up fakin no jacks, cause all my crackshacks are jam packed
My mad stacks, show that Im on the right track, like Amtrak
So stand back, cause Ima make whatever it takes
to shake Jakes, and shoot snakes, and bake more snowflake cakes than Drakes
Cut up your grill like Im the Barber of Seville
Still like Gotti bodies are found inside the harbor cause Im ill
Its war, but no more kids are bein kidnapped, matter of fact
aint with the shit black, I was young when I did that
Theres dope in the Copa Cabanas, cock back the hammers
So niggaz in pajamas get they wigs split like bananas
Stable of hotties, niggaz with shotties catchin bodies
Neighborhood John Gotti with more notes than Pavarotti
Yeah, paid as a motherfuckin bank teller
The Goodfella, I stay a motherfuckin drug seller
[Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap, B1 - G and B alternate]
[ad-lib to outro]
[ Money On My Brain Lyrics ]