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This song is by Tech N9ne and appears on the album Strictly Strange (2009).

I started small time, rap game, that's pain
Icy Rock school of rap, I'm never whack mane
Had no jewlery, I was broke, but I was ryhmin hard
Now you see me n I swerve, with body guards
Quick, hastey, player haters they face be
Whop bab a loob bop, popped, we off safety
Biancs know we do got knots, we lock pasteries
Shocked on a new hot knock, Rick Rock made me
Squat in a new drop top, they got shakey
Paterners 'n' crews got hot, you shop Maceys
Cops know that you got spots 'n' got babies
Shots poppin' threw ma's loft is not tastey
Plots on the new box hops, you cop race me
Top scholar who got props, I got gacey
Stop talkin' you not hot, do not wake me
If you got Ooh whops that does not make me

(Money money money, must be funny. In a rich man's world)
Money Money, Money Money

Pocket, so much power you can't stop this
Watch lit, that's why I stop jumpin' in mosh pits
Jock this, tell'a who sell'a lotta this ock with
Hotness, toxic, homie how can you not get - profits, so much fettie, baby the cops get - obnoxious, seein my merchandis comin' in boxes
The hawk this, status 'cause me 'n' Travis are bosses
Frost bit, the wrist glits lots, it costed
Watch when I drop this, everbody gonn' cop this
Over seas greeds of mini vanilli 'n' chocolates
Gimmie pennies or twenties, skinny minies n (?ocksis?)
Them women can get it admit you hit for nos trick
If you got spit, know that you can get relish but if you sell it just be ready when the spot hit
All the beef we got we ain't squashed it
'Cause they know we perminently currency 'n' we got this

(Money money money, must be funny. In a rich man's world)
Money Money, Money Money

(I'mma dedicate this last verse to the late, great, Mac Dre man. We gonn' keep that Thizzle dance crackin' for you baby, n side show every chance we get! Rest In Peace. Regime Life till I die!)

Furried in Missiouri, out side it no body knew me
Havin' no broccoli wasn't grovie
So I had to move to L to A you got the sail away so you can get the mail today 'cause everybody fails to pay
When you nadda, rapper who got a lotta
Money or women in who steady in them Gotchis or Pradas
You just a low life maggot gettin' money from momma
N when you broke all you gettin' is drama
The worlds paranas if you a big fish, because they nibble 'n' nibble till you die! Buggin you till you buy! That's why we be stressin, poppin', puffin, till we high! Hystarical 'cause miricals need wings to fly! My god, you can put this off in your iPod
After you cop it 'cause droppin' rockets is my job/ Look at my wallet, you got it I keep a nice wad
Gettin' riches 'n' dissin bitches like Ty Cob

This is Everready The Religion...

(Money money money, must be funny. In a rich man's world)
Money Money, Money Money

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