"Money Is Reality" lyrics
Statik Selektah & Termanology Lyrics
(feat. Action Bronson)
[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
[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
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
[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
