"Reborn" lyrics

"Reborn"

We ain't talking money what we talking about? (Nothing!)
If we ain't talking money what we talking about? (Nothing!)
If we ain't talking money what we talking about? (Nothing!)
If we ain't talking money we ain't talking

Yeah I'd rather be gleaming, so I'ma keep on winning
Now my buzz through the ceiling, it's feeling like the beginning
Your games you're quitting, get in where you fit in
Doe don't make itself and I'm addicted to spending

Cool and humble out the jungle at the same time
Too many niggas swagger jacking had to change mine
Fog arenas up, like LeBron at game time
Foreign pedal pushing, while you're pushing on a train line
They say I'm the next one, heard it through the grape vine
Magic when my vocals hit, murder over base, I'm
Terrible with temper don't go looking in my face wrong
Burner on my waist line, send your ass to space, time
Flies when you get money, it's slow without the doe
And I ain't never been no dummy, won't fall over no hoe
I be splurging when I'm shopping, copping all over the store
If I holla and she stopping, I'll be popping in some more
I been all around the world, your block is like their block
Your city's like their city, when I tour I bring it with me
Hennesy, Bacardi, Moet pouring til I'm dizzy
Baby call me when you're caking, cause I money making

We ain't talking money what we talking about? (Nothing!)
If we ain't talking money what we talking about? (Nothing!)
If we ain't talking money what we talking about? (Nothing!)
If we ain't talking money we ain't talking

Man, I'd rather be gleaming, so I'ma keep on winning
Now my buzz through the ceiling, it's feeling like the beginning
Your games, you're quitting, get in where you fit in
Doe don't make itself and I'm addicted to spending

Nigga I ain't with the chitter, miss me with the back and forth
Professional spitter, crispy in a platinum Porche
This is what they need to knock their package off
Pack the club then pack the truck up with Manhattan whores
One is into fashion, the style she got ain't at the store
Couple hours pass, baby girl was out her drawls
I had to fuck her cousin she shake it like she work at Sue's
Cell still buzzing and I'm bouncing if it's worth the move
I'm super fly, you little niggas Irkle smooth
BVs hell of iced out, white, yellow, purple jewels
I'm overseas you ain't even got a visa
One switch for the switchers, fuck you I don't need ya
Man, your bitch looks like a creature, and mine's a Mona Lisa
A work of art walking still hit it and release her
A creeper, strung out is how I keep her
The mountain's where I leave her
Then I'm on to the next, hauling baguettes


Thanks to Saurabh Kalra for adding these lyrics.
Writer(s): Christopher Charles Lloyd, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Robert Lynn Livingston
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