Artist: Dom Pachino f/ Bugsy, Live Brim Album: Tera Iz Him 2 Song: Gun Money Typed by: Cno Evil [Dom Pachino] Aiyo, the game's over, the break's over, you fake soldier Go skate posers, we roll heavy in range rovers Address me general, now, I'm not the same soldier Always was a leader, man, always directed Show them how to move, and they always respect it Good looking little nigga, man, they never expected it I organize gorillas like a zoo keeper, my vocals get deep in your speaker We on these streets like sneakers, on they feets like kicks and snares Everywhere you look we there, don't be shook and scared, when it's crooks appear It's our music that we want you to hear, yeah Such a good hood mentality Whoever thought making music will make a good man a salary Nigga I been eating good, check my transfat My Dow Jones and my NASDAQ, check my ASCAP I like a little junk in the trunk, my bitch's ass is fat [Chorus: Dom Pachino] Gun money, bail out my dun, money No honey for hookers that act money Show money, keep getting your dough money I don't want it if it's slow money Fast money, have a blast, money When it's all gone, you be looking back in your stash Looking back in your stash, homey [Live Brim] I'm the worm that's in the rotten apple, to bring here to spit it at you Ass mold that read it asshole, without the tabernacle Lyrical Constantine, just ask Neo Even if he know, my flow is swish without the free throw In the war, quick to reload, and let three go I keeps a sawed-off shotty, right under the peacoat Yesterday I went grenade shopping, pull the concaction For these niggas that plotting, I back out that Dirty Doctrine Spit the twos, you fucking with some dudes that's quick to spit the tool Then act a fool, my niggas is starving, tell 'em to smack your food Smashing fools how Cassius do, bash 'em with a jab or two From Castleton Avenue, yeah you know just how the savage do Lavish crew nigga, so quit talking bout who establish who Cuz the kid conduct ceremonies, just like a pastor do Blast your shoe, knee and piece swerving up in the faster crew Fuck around, Taliban, nigga, that ass is through *talking* [Chorus] [Bugsy] G-O-D up in your atmosphere, like Buzz Lightyear So I'm coming through the hemisphere, the forecast is not clear To population living in fear, Kennedy curse your fam You niggas know who I am, Bugzini nigga Scientic, prolific, the soldier's back on a mission Get rid of fake MC's with no resistance Rid of your existance from point blank distance Rid off all that evidence, forensics can't trace it My gun the beehive, the bullets be the Killa Beez Ready to swarm, pull the trigger, kill instantly I melt the mic, with my lava like fluid Or the cobra with that poisonous venom, I'm so ruthless I hold mics like gravity, holding the nine planets Unleashing verbal comets, take control of your plane Invade the cockpit, you trapped in my daily orbit Your life, I'm taking on it, should be MC's cornered Now hand over your gun money, bitch