Na Na Nana Na Na

[Intro:]

Dipset (owwww)

As we proceed

What have we here (take that take that)

Its '09 motherfucker (one thing to do)

We get money motherfucker (yo)

[Verse 1:]

I pulled off like na-na-na-na-na-na

They would of tried some bullshit but a nigga had the blamer (try again)

They only got me cause they caught it on a camera (owww)

They wanna ball but they ain't got no stamina (they need it)

They said damn man you lookin' like Pac

I said nah, not alive, man I'm lookin' like Jones (capo)

Besides I put money on your skull and bones

And keep it low watch what you say up on those fuckin' phones

Shhh... be quiet

Touchdown

And getcha ass hung the fuck up just like a bunch of clothes

Hey ma, we stretch work like you touch your toes

And in the middle of July we got that summer snow

I got 'em snowboarding in August

And I love a pretty bitch but the Porsche look gorgeous (you see it)

Harlem is one big ski slalom

I guess the Hill is like the Swiss Alps, we bring them whips out

[Chorus:]

We gettin' money like na-na-na-na-na-na

Waitin' at the flash throwin' money at the cameras

Twin turbs out speeding with the scanners

Breeze past the cops screamin' na-na-na-na-na-na

We gettin' money like na-na-na-na-na-na

Lookin' at my ass know you wish he had a camera

We gettin' money like na-na-na-na-na-na

Drop top at the light screamin' life is good

[Verse 2:]

If there's money on my head I hope they got a reciept

Cool your old ass off cause it's hot on these streets (be easy)

I got dogs and they not on a leash

So you hope you understand

Do you copy? capesh? (comprende?)

At this point I don't think they could take it

Sharks in the water they won't make it to safety (he drown)

And even though that we been gettin' cake

And now the money taste sweet like pastry, they hate me (back at you)

Now tell me how I look

Would you rather live life like me or by the book? (you get it?)

Sheesh, we are what we are

Make the wrong move will put your faggot ass in the ER

He's not gonna make it

Clear?

Flatline

If its red apples fallin' hit me on the bat line (Jones)

I'm back for mine, some more black flyin'

The flyest nigga you know that got a knack for crime

Nana

[Chrous:]

[Verse 3:]

And what you do nigga?

I cop cars out the future

Pocket so fat like Raspusha

I think I'm gettin' used to

Lifestyle rich and conspicuous

Chicks want to get with us (owww)

The feds takin' flicks of us (say cheese)

They all know I put on for Harlem

Tell rich Broadway I took it up another level (God bless 'em)

I took 80, blew it on a Beezle

Bought the new Fiskar flew it through the ghetto (15th St.)

The definition of opulence

The jewels drippin' we droppin' on top and poppin' shit (splash)

Who would think that this kid from the projects

Get his neck so cold you would think he's lethargic (I'm froze up)

The wrist look like hypothermia set in (what)

Pick a club night that the burner don't get in (I can't recall that)

We pop champagne until the club let out (and)

I drink and I fuck and then I piss a nigga rent out

[Chorus:]

[Outro:]

Uhhhh

You know the rules nigga

Fly high or get flew over

Roll with us or get rolled over

Ain't nuthin' change

Just the decimal point motherfucker

You get the point?

Money money money

Don't make dollars don't make sense

Fuck you nigga

Suck a dick too

Jones