โหลดเพลง mp3 Countin' Money - Bun B

Countin Money (Feat. Yo Gotti, Gucci Mane) - Bun B
F**k a rubber band a ni**a need a buncha birds
F**k a rubber band a ni**a need a buncha birds
F**k a rubber band a ni**a need a buncha birds
F**k a rubber band a ni**a need a buncha birds
Money all day count money all day
Count money all day count money all money all
Count money all day count money all day
Count money all
Money all money all day
Say mane no matta where I go no matter what I do
If chillin' wit' myself or ballin' wit' my crew
The skies is lookin' cloudy or Bahama water blue
I got that money on my mind so tell me what it do
And if you be like me then you already knew it
We goin' for the money then we goin' right through it
We take it to the table baby chop it up and screw it
'Cause it ain't nothin' to it where come from but to do it
We get it in our hands and then it go
Right through the fingers
We standin' on the system in a fresh set of swangas
We pop a couple tags put some fresh up on the hangers
That everyday struggle and can't nair ni**a change us
Believe that I was famous 'fore I ever did a song
Believe I had a poppin' 'fore a label put me on
It's 2010 and I ain't seein' nothin' wrong
But niggas countin' money all day f**kin' long
Money all day count money all day
Count money all day count money all money all
Money all day count money all day count money all
Money all money all day
Money totin' pistol carrying young ni**a thugged out
Very first song I ever dropped was in a drug house
Razor blades sandwich bags Louis shoes stupid swag
Rubberbands duffle bags small bills trash bags
Apple chain on my neck you know that cost stupid cash
Maserati for the wash that's that foolish cash

Penitentiary chances '6's on a muscle car
Bun helped me keep it real and watch it take me far
My money don't fold this money here
I ain't make it for no hoes I ain't get this off of shows
Count money all day count money all night
Just know I'm wit' my paper so I got my paper twice
I been on wit' out my paper so I sleep wit' it at night
Now I wake up wit' to my paper so I start my day off right
They call me Coc*ine Gotti and it's money over b**ches
Mr Everything White he be always in the kitchen
Money all day count money all day
Count money all day count money all money all
Money all day count money all day count money all

Money all money all day
On teh shake
Ain't no need to check ya sneakers three bricks
Plus a split wit' me then b**ch you got a hit
Big money on my leisure pop bottles wit' top models
Wit' my goons in Puerto Rico yo' girlfriend I'ma freak her
Believe me I'm a giant leave it to the lemurs to believers
I only see my paper plus my cojan on the Sanyo
The hottest rapper that you know people look like Cujo
I get a thousand million ties and sold your guys for uno
So tune into East Atlanta please don't change the channel ma
Roll the windows down back up in my Phantom show my automa
Hangin' out my partner naw don't you want this autograph
Thinkin' that you angry 'cause my neck look like the Mardi Gras
Money all day count money all day
Count money all day count money all money all
Money all day count money all day count money all
Money all money all day