Money Cash Clothes Songtext
von The Game feat. A$AP Rocky

Ayy, Swizz, lemme talk to ′em

It's game time, what the AP said
Shoutout to every bad bitch that gave me head
"Fuck you" to every nigga that pray me dead
I′m alive, you gotta deal with me, JAY-Z dreads
Drop the top let the AC spread
Tell every rapper 'cept him and Nas to come and break me bread
My morale cannot be stepped on
I'm the real middle child, niggas get smoked like all the roaches I done slept on

Don′t get me started
Who am I? I am the big homie to Lil Wayne Carter
They tryna throw the book at Blood, but I′m the author
I can still say Nine-Trey and my bandana stretch farther
Than New York, it's like I′m walkin' on water
How I end up in Heathrow with the Draco inside of my joggers
′Til I'm back on the West side with my gun
Livin′ in Conway, Butcherin' Swizz Beatz and beef is always the entrée


Sup, André? Far as the rest of you niggas
Slide on you, mask on, nigga, I'm Ye
Yeah, style on you bitches
Flyin′ birds before OVO put the owl on the stitches
I′ve been in the mix, DeLeon with the FN on, it's hit or miss
They sayin′, "Rest in peace," 'cause I let it rip
I used to rock it ASAP when I flick the wrist
Now this nigga A$AP Rocky hoppin′ in the whip

Uh, yeah (A$AP nigga)
Nigga, Harlem World to the west coast, nigga
You know how fly niggas collide (Zombie on the track)
Uh

Coupe De Ville money (what?), Hooper deal money (what?)
New face hunnids, honey, we don't peel twenties (what?)
Blue face, my boo cakes will probably steal from me (c′mon)
In a new place but got dudes that shoot and kill for me (yeah)
They look and stare funny (yeah)
But them hookers still love me (yeah)
Do it for the shooters 'cause the shooters feel for me (oh)
I do it for the bitches, make 'em boost and steal for me (yeah)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes

Pi′erre goons with the earn up
In your coupe doing burnouts (skrrt)
Make your boo wear the perm up (ooh)
Pretty nigga that you heard ′bout me (ooh)
Ya heard? I heard you heard a word around the curb I took your bird out
She be with bad hoes, I just fuck to get the word out (ooh)


Special announcement (uh)
New Loewe on the way, can you pronounce it? (Bitch)
You cop the clothes they give away, I'm in my house with (bitch)
I′m with your housewife, trying on my outfits, taking off her blouses

More money, more cash, more clothes (what?)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c′mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c′mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)

Rocky, you got Riri, let me have dem now
Balenciaga bomber coat, I take hand me downs
Especially if it's from A$AP, Harlem World, Mase back
Hit ′em with the Diddy Glock 9, tell ′em take that
He always keep the clips on him, marble floor, tip-toein'
AP got the crib glowin′, yeah
Now she naked in the Rick Owens
I'm runnin′ round the mansion with the blick showin'
Calvin Klein briefs with my dick showin′

All black Prada bucket and I got a Chrome Heart
Virgil died and not a inch of Louis, now we Goyard
Go hard, Avirex leather with the Numi logo
Horse in the carriage, sticks on us comin' through 'em Polo
Hundred in the black whip, hundred in the tail fed
Rapper game, Gucci′d down when I was on welfare
Yeezy slidin′ across the stage, the Grammy award goes
Anything is possible, Drake got cornrows

More money, more cash, more clothes (what?)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c′mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c′mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)

Yeah, my insulation cost a Maybach, yeah
And your intuition costs like eight racks, yeah
And my intuition got me laid back
Fuck your intermission, bitch it′s A$AP
Nigga word to Game's butterfly face tat, where he got L.A. at
Send a couple bloody guys to slide where you lay at
So hide where you stay at, reside where you pray at
You scared, go to church
This ain't a purse, it′s a murse nigga

Nah, son, this ain′t a Maybach
This a hearse, nigga
Tell her that the Birkin ain't a gift, it′s a curse, nigga
Hit 'em where it hurt, pull up right where your fam lay
My alibi? I was with A$AP on Yams Day
Power homecoming when the Draco let the band play
Gold inside the lamb chop, dip the Killa Cam way
Free Gunna, free Thug, that′s all I can say
They tryna hit a nigga with the RICO off a handshake

More money, more cash, more clothes (what?)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c′mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c'mon)
Money, cash, clothes, money, cash, clothes (what?)
More money, more cash, more clothes (c′mon)

Zombie on the track