Текст песни Chinx Drugz ft. French Montana ft. Rihanna - Pour It Up (Remix)

Текст:

[Intro: Young Jeezy] Say, Rih-Rih, let’s take this shit to the street one-time, you know? Throwin’ hundreds like loose change, still got my money Got your broad in that Mulsanne, that Bentley homie Seats whiter than cocaine, that .40 on me Got me and Chi-Chi, bring broads, mane She like my homie [Verse 1: Young Jeezy] I’m King Tut with my gold chain My partner with me, he the dope mane Straight gas nigga, that BP On that E40, that OG These bitch niggas be actin' up These hoes niggas be actin' foul They’ll grind with you, they’ll shine with you Be pointin’ fingers off at your trial My Rolls Royce with my driver in it Gettin’ fucked up ‘cause I ain’t got to drive That Kendrick on them bottles Came, poured a swimming pool, now we 'bout to dive Got one room, got three bitches Nigga damn right that’s where they’re supposed to be Two Glock .40s at all time Gone shoot back a nigga shooting me, you know it [Hook: Rihanna] Oh ohh ohhh Ohhh oh oh oh All I see is signs All I see is dolla' signs Oh ohh ohhh Ohhh oh oh oh Money on my mind Money money on my mind Throw it throw it up Watch it fall out from the sky Throw it up throw it up Watch it all fall out Pour it up pour it up That's how we ball out Throw it up throw it up Watch it all fall out Pour it up pour it up That's how we ball out That's how we ball out That's how we ball out That's how we ball out [Interlude: Rick Ross] It's the biggest nigga in the game Sexy bitches world wide, wassap? Fuck with me huh? [Verse 2: Rick Ross] My foreign cars, domestic beefs Peter Luger’s, the better seats Dollar after dollar, bottle after bottle Late for you haters even though my plane charter Suede Bally shoes, true rude boy Ferrari 400 horses, we do it for cool points (HAHA) Baby, do the math, I’m coppin’ Chanel bags Talkin’ Bal Harbour, cigars by Hermes Know we ran the streets, eatin’ cold bully beef Now we at the Grammys, Tom Ford to my feet Boss on the avi, Rihanna screensaver Whenever you see fact boy, I know it mean paper [Verse 3: Juicy J] Juicy J pourin’ up codeine, Benz all white, no chlorine Bad chick with me got ass and titties Freaky bitch gon’ fuck the whole team Ziplock bag full of OG, I go in like a door key Your girlfriend down on both knees, she catch more balls than a goalie Purple all in my sprite, I’m high as Denzel on Flight Scared money don’t make no money You niggas shaky like dice I’m in the bed with your wife We poppin’ pills, we goin’ hard When she with you she a church girl When she with me she a pornstar Smokin’ on doobies like cigarettes Which one these strippers give head the best? Pussy so good that I think I’m in love What am I saying? It must be the drugs (drugs, drugs) Pour it up, pop that ass, I make it rain ho I’ll make it flood, shorty, you might need a raincoat [Verse 4: Rihanna] Strip clubs and dolla' bills Still got mo' money Patron shots can I get a refill Still got mo' money Strippers going up and down that pole Still got mo' money 4'o clock and we ain't going home Cause I still got mo' money Money make the world go round Still got mo' money Bands make you girl go down Still got mo' money Lot more where that came from Still got mo' money The look in your eyes I know you want some Still got mo' money [Bridge: Rihanna] Pour it up, pour it up That's how we ball out, that's how we ball out That's how we ball out, that's how we ball out Still got mo' money, still got mo' money Still got mo' money, still got mo' money [Verse 5: T.I.] I catch a case and I go to jail I came home and went back, oh well I’m multiplying everything I spend These trap niggas I represent It’s Hustle Gang an

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