Gettin’ Money (Letra)

Soulja Boy Part. Jbar

Hip Hop / Rap

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Getting money (x8)

Jbar:
You get money damn right I get money yahh (x4)
Getting money on the east side(gettin money), on the west side(gettin money), on the south side(gettin money), on the north side(gettin money) (x2)

Soulja Boy:
I’m reading all you broke ass niggas like a book
Jbar should be a boxer he so fire with dat hook
When it come to get money nigga I’m the one to talk to with
I am the shit dog and you are just dog shit
cause pussy ass niggas keep texting my blackberry
They report him on the news they would say its a blackberry
Kush mixed with purple
Don’t you smell the odor
Fuck with me and get your head popped like a soda
When it comes to this rap shit, I am the best man
In high school I was a senior but I had to stay fresh man
They doubted me in person now they feeling like dummies
but I never gave a fuck cause I was always getting money(ooh)

Jbar:
You get money damn right I get money yahh (x4)
Getting money on the east side(gettin money), on the west side(gettin money), on the south side(gettin money), on the north side(gettin money) (x2)

Soulja Boy:
My chain gold diamonds like a mutha fucking Oscar
Your chain looking faded like some mutha fucking copper
He’s dry snitching talking to the damn coppers
Have his ass scared leaking red like a lobster
2 million dollars cash in front of me like I’m a mobster
Their comments keep me entertained so shout out to the bloggers
Soulja, spit that hot shit like Ether
He don’t like me I don’t like his ass either.
When the beef is on, we will pull a all nighter
Send his head shot like I ma damn sniper
My nigga can’t follow bitch I can go further
Rest in peace to this track cause this shit had been murdered

Jbar:
You get money damn right I get money yahh (x4)
Getting money on the east side(gettin money), on the west side(gettin money), on the south side(gettin money), on the north side(gettin money) (x2)

Getting money (x16)

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Gettin Money (Letra)

Keri Hilson

R&B

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One for the paper
Two for the money

You see this is what I like to call buyou music
Cause you better buy you a car
You better buy you a phone
And you better buy you some where to stay
Or I’mma walk right by you

I don’t know whats going on baby
What the hell is going wrong baby
Used to take me to dinner
Used to take me shopping now you asking me for my paper
It’s my money, it’s my paper, boy my money
Bet you never get another dime from me
No, you can’t use the phone baby
Think you need to get your own

Was looking for a man to hold me down
But how’d I end up with you?
Yeah, baby, you
And as hard as I try sometimes it gets hard paying all these bills
The note on the car
So I don’t need no broke broke boy tryna holla
So baby shut it up til you show me some dollars

One for the paper
Two for the money
Brand new bags, new shoes yeah I want it
All my girls, fly girls getting money
All my girls, fly girls getting money

One for the paper
Two for the money
Nails did, hair did
Gap yeah I want it

One for the paper
Two for the money
All my girls, fly girls getting money

you want a ride or die chick baby
But you aint got a whip baby
It aint gon happen
If you aint got shit you need a walk or die chick baby
Yeah yeah thats funny
Don’t look my way if you aint got that money
And I aint making nothing to eat baby

I think it’s time you treat baby
Was looking for a man to hold me down
But how’d I end up with you?
Yeah, baby, you
And as hard as I try sometimes it gets hard paying all these bills
The note on the car
So I don’t need no broke broke boy tryna holla
So baby shut it up til you show me some dollars

Money, money
Who be getting money?
They say that money talks
Thats why I talk a little funny like:
“hey money I love you money”
And if you ain’t talking money
Then your broke arse away from me
F-f-fresh prince
Yeah I phil(fill) banks
For every couple haters I’ve got a couple grand,
Check my statements you’ll be dizzy man
Got that [bonkers] money
Oops!
Have I spoilt plans?
You rappers old news,
Rapping ‘bout guns that you weren’t ever gon’ use
When I kill ‘em with only pro tools.

And they won’t be come back for more

Drizzy flow,

They build their stack then they spend it all
on getting stoned,
They say I’m getting bigger then rick ross’ belly hoe!

Get ya own (getting money)
Get ya own (getting money)
Get ya own (getting money)
I don’t need no broke broke boy tryna holla

Get ya own (getting money)
Get ya own (getting money)
Get ya own (getting money)
I don’t need no broke broke boy tryna holla, holla, holla

Gettin Money (Letra)

Jungle Brothers

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