Get Money, Spend Money, No Money lyrics

Yeah

Gangsta

(Verse 1)
Tell me all my children fore I come through is the hood in the buildin'(yes)
You wont believe what I'm dealing this west coas shit, oh what a feelin (ahhhh)
Niggaz think I'm drug dealin cus I roled out with no muthaf**kin' sealing (none)
Is he worth a hundred million no need to ask Ice Cube how I'm livin (I'm living loc)
I still got the recipe, South Central LA is the pedigree
Don't try to tell me wuh it better be, I have your ass up in physical therapy
I outlaw like a Cherokee, the rap industry tried to bury me
But if I die on a mike of a leraby I'm so heavy u bitches couldn't carry me

(Chorus)
Get money spend money no money, lookin' like a dummy (I really don't give a f**k)
Your money aint my f**king money got a pocket full of money (c'mon homie throw it up)
Get money spend money no money, lookin' like a dummy (I really don't give a f**k)
Your money aint my f**king money got a pocket full of money (c'mon homie throw it up)
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/i/ice_cube/get_money_spend_money_no_money.html ]
(Verse 2)
I don't accept no disrespect only thing I expect is self check
Just grin and bare it, got an ass whooping that your ass don't wanna inherit
Most rappers are parrots, they say what they told to say to get a neck fool of carrots
Got your momma embarrassed, how long before they callin' us terrorists nigga-im serious (I)
Keep it gangsta but I keeps a job cus its, hard to sleep when u steal and rob (and ya)
Got to run cus here comes the blob cus, Uncle Sam is like part of the Mobb
Break your self he'll take your wealth don't get it twisted u a muthaf**kin' elf
And Santa Clause will go for self all u got is your balls and your health

(Chorus)

(Verse 3)
Niggaz brag about what they got, but we don't own a skyscraper, now that's paypa
One generation from slums, happy for these little crumb... you little bums
We saw u pull up but nigga shut up (Shut up), you always talk about a f**kin' car or truck
You always talkin' bout some f**kin' rims on terrier, that kinda shit will keep an ass inferior
I'm tryina eat tomorrow, not tryina hear bout the little bitty shit u ball
Saw your little bitty house on cribs, where u f**k your wife and feed your kids (uhuhh)
Nigga be quiet aint shit private, everything for sail u can buy it
All this self snitchin', all this self tellin' muthaf**kas going back to the watermelon

(Chorus)x3