Artist: Young Scooter Album: Street Lottery 2 Song: What Happen to Me Typed by: AZ Lyrics [Chorus] I need money, I be money I see money, I take it I don't fold with niggas Who be out there and they fake it Real niggas around me Aha, they real niggas around me A lesson to you niggas Don't you come 'round talking sideways I'm the keeper, that shit, we fuck niggerway Real niggas around me Aha My niggas, my niggas Your niggas ain't shit Look right, B.M.G., cowboy, run shit The chopper's on, chopper's on, don't get your ass leaked Chopper's outside your home, make a nigga [?] Speed it on, won't they? I ring it where they lay at When it come to war time, man, I ate ate it Take pictures with them choppers, man You ain't gonna spray that You never seen a plane You never felt the need to keep that The shooters ain't real shooters, shoot on There's no solution Over hill, we swap them out, I take them out Then he gon'shoot you Clearly we is not the same, over there the cliffs ain't Clear that bitch, emptying that chopper, bang, bang [Chorus] Loaded guns around me, real niggas who ready for war This is cowboy shit, where you know that pessimism from? I'm the boss of rap synergy I shoot you off a BMG Aha, there real niggas around me They finally found 'bout this street shit Niggas talking big, lot of scraps, yeah we eating it I know them niggas here, later they be on the TV, man All my niggas around me, you know they cutting dirty, till See my niece, Maria, I shouldn't have take it In your mind you wonder, what came [?] 100% real nigga in me, what you though about me? Got the killers with me, Benz with me, no stalking me I need money, I be money, I see money, I take it I don't fold with niggas who be out there and they fake it [Chorus] BUG the cartell, the streets, we need real niggas You don't cross the line, nigga, and that is your faith you don't meet The shooters, they don't scrape at me You'gon'make the TV, 'less they heard about the rent They smell shit with UZI I killer's I ain't checking like they by that It's my project nigga Jay D Fuck, why get in your Benz? If it's murder, nigga, my lawyer get it acquitted You on death struck, I don't give a fuck. I warm me up He is ready to die, then, nigga, you're the one done with that Shoot'em with more mileage, they finally leave you baking You gonna pay me, shiverring and shaking like Kaine [Chorus]