Money is Reality

[Verse 1: Action Bronson]

Respect the mustache, my people lust cash and puff the cut grass

Of spite, known to let a nut fly, right in your slut mask

Ring of fire full I step inside fishing to cut glass

Tongue poll shaking pillars, you're like a steak a sizzler

I'm like a lunch with no boo dip with the whole crew

Cause false moves get your whole face smothered like soul food

Right by the waist I got the Pro Tool, it's simply logic

Produce this hard dick in seconds, make your bitch massage it

You're like a forty dollar holler from Guadalajara

Gushing to scamma motherfucker's ain't promised tomorrow

Badges of honor on the chest the flesh got wounds in it

Got inmates with assholes that got balloons in it

Versace blue jeans 98 the scent of me

Now the scent of me be primarily the scent of tree

Fucking feedback, play me feed back

Before I shoot you, shorty take the charge, Steve Nash

[Verse 2: Termanology]

Don't interrupt me I'll silly putty you for the money

Red sauce, calamari you with the feeling's funny

I'm dealing twenties killing forties by the oz

My brain is scattered like I been swallowing OCs

Beantown to Queens, you hear the rounds and screams

Where they pat down your jeans, take your money and your trees

The diamond rocker devouring vodka shrimp and lobster

Pop you and turn you into pasta papa look in my cara

The flow's furious, so serious cold killers

Who rip shit, spit sick, and stole millions

Hit em with lead and then men'll run in your grandma house

Clear it out, steal everything in it but the couch

Term Brady and Action Sanchez

Stacks of fair bread, clap and peel wigs

The type of feeling I get when I write a rhyme

Is the violentest blood-infested killing of all time

I'm a beast