Money Machine - Gucci Mane, Rick Ross

Wop, money!

Honorable C-Note

Fluorescent lamps in my crib, providing light for my seeds

I’m a get money marine, I sent coke in submarines

Irrigation machines, hydraulic water machines

My money counting machine sound like a sewing machine

Cash machine on the dresser, machine gun with the compressor

Dope presser machine, I’m re-rocking everything (presser)

Claim I’m laundering money but where the washing machine?

They know my trap house pump out quarters like a slot machine

In a futuristic whip look like a time machine

Old school dropped a lil' one fine machine

Making chips off coke and soda like a vending machine

Dog food with the quinoa in my blending machine

Sip so much Codeine and Sprite I need a soda machine

So I can sit it next to my joint rolling machine

And it’s placed parallel to the Carbon 15

With the scope, monkey nuts, and the infrared beam

The machine don’t make the man, the man make the machine

So many try to sabotage, can’t stop the regime

Call me Wop the puppet master, I’m just pulling the strings

Screaming please don’t look me puppet like American Me

Take a tour with me, a down south American G

Tryna flood the dirty south, East Atlantian streets

With this high grade uncut Colombian tea

Yeah I got it for cheap but you ain’t get it from me

Got the high grade uncut Colombian tea

Yeah I got it for cheap but you can’t get it for free

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine, my, beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

8 figure niggas man

When I say boss I mean that, ya heard me?

I’m so fuck what I sold, my toilet seats solid gold

You should see my new palace cause that bitch bigger than Lowe’s

I’m a 8 figure nigga, I run the check to the ceiling

Since Gucci came home bitches back in they feelings

I’m in Dubai on parole, I Abu Dhabi my hoes

If she fuck all the rappers, she say hip hop in her soul

100 grand in all twenties, they said that I couldn’t

50 grand to my bitch just cause her ex was looking

Red bottom boss, I call the yayo caucasian

Choppers sleep on the couch ready for home invasions

These pussies watching my Snap, they know that I’m strapped

On the road to the riches bitches, I’m running my laps

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine, my, beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

My money machine, my money machine

My money machine go beep-beep

Wizop, beep, racks