Beautiful Money - Moola Gang, Mac Miller

These dead presidents old just like my grandpie

But feel like a bitch with a fat ass

All the lights and cameras flashin', I gotta flash it

This money is beautiful, this money is beautiful

Uh

Swear I seen it all, I mean thousands, you made millions

, meanwhile I’m on a

Fingers turn to colors from the euros that I’m countin' (Rainbow)

You in the hood poutin', I’m sippin' on sour grapes

Lookin' at my champagne glass with a Bill Cowher face (Woo)

Mazel tov, no, really, she said, «Mazel tov» (For real)

My life’s monologue, words like Kellogg’s (Kellogg's)

'Cause now my son is raised in brands

You wouldn’t understand how I came from a jam

To sippin' on tea, eatin' over jam

From my aunti’s basement, smellin' lik a thousand grands

Trap goin' ham, hot, dreams of a teardrop

Moola Gang, we that gettin' money clan (Clan)

Paint green on life’s canvass

My campus the incredible two state for a federal

, it’s all real, baby

Get outta this, mane, Moola Gang

My shoes cost a pretty penny

Loafin' in them Jordan 11's, I don’t do the pennies

It don’t matter if they black or white like Michael

Sneakerheads ship them FedEx to they arrival

A brother I don’t give no one credit

They should apply more

I shoulda only gave my ex sex like a side-whore

Focused on the present, the past took a lot of me

But that’s what adds excitement to my biography

This money, sexy life pinky

Make your bitch do downstairs like a slinky

You couldn’t see my clique if I linked ya

Links in my chain platinum like a Visa

These are V, can’t play defense in the V

I’d rather be low-key with the keys to the city

Gettin' moolah with the gang, we a G’d up committee

Two handfuls of money like a C-cup of titties

These dead presidents old just like my grandpie

But feel like a bitch with a fat ass

All the lights and cameras flashin', I gotta flash it

This money is beautiful, this money is beautiful

Yeah, havin' millions will be picture-perfect

I know these people know the kid deserves it

Got the sickest verses, spinnin' like it’s written in cursive

Twisted herb, lost, phone missin' service

With all these clowns here, I feel like it’s a circus

Sippin' liquor got me spinnin' 'til I’m layin' on the bed

Eyes in the back of my head, you see me

After this bread, tryna get it like Bill Gates

Flippin' mechandise and sellin' mixtapes

When you wanna escape, boy, this piff great

Full stomach though, an empty dinner plate

Bunch of strippers goin' ham, dancin' in the cage

You got no candles with your cake, you washed up

You a dickface, I bet your job sucks

Who you fuckin' with?

Not us

You mad, haha