This is one of my favorite songs. https://fnfgo.io
Look, vibe with me
Rhyme is tricky, who ridin' with me
Who kinda miss me can kinda miss me, you kinda iffy
Don't know the history? I'm from the city of stop and frisk me
The cops is jiggy, they spot the blickey then try and get me
My pops a Willie, said "Give her fifty, she pop her kitty"
He Bad Boy and he Poppa really, it's not a Biggie
See my committee, block offici', it's not an ishy
Or I'm too lazy to cross roads, if not, I'm busy
It's not a mystery who shot Ricky, but where the difference
Between the tré and the dough, boy, we bred different
So bear witness, this can leave you with head missing
If y'all can hear me, I guarantee you the feds listening
So I be spittin' in barcode, nothin' left in the tap, dog
And after the last call, the bar close
They spark Cohiba, cigar blow
Even Tony Stark knows the tension is thick as Wallabee Clark soles
But did I mention I'm sick and gotta be hardcore
Hard-boiled, taking your base, that's what we ball for
Money over bimbos, that's what the Mob for
Rappers stuck in limbo 'cause they were settin' the bar low
Every time I rhyme on a track, it's like a combo
King, we put the nine to your back, it's like you Rondo
When it come to John, though, I'ma slaughter a John Doe
Drag him through a drive-thru like he ordered the combo
Hands on him, we wild style with the cans on him
Then come defeat, that's my beliefs and I stand on 'em
Give you the Beats, no Doc Dre or brands on 'em
Some band want 'em, these verses hot and the fans want 'em
I'm from the school of them hard knocks with harder standards
I've been a hard rock before they added the Arm & Hammers
I'm at the nana's, bogus method, we call it bama
Gun on the camera so we can shoot them in panoramas
Na-nana-nana, I'm feelin' petty but watch your manners
Use proper grammar so we could stop with the propaganda
No type of slander but tell them hoes "I'm not your Santa"
Just want the body, nobody tryin' to pot-and-pan ya
Cop scanners, a Fuller House but we not the Tanners
If shooters bringin' them Hawks out, then it's not Atlanta's
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
Rhyme is tricky, who ridin' with me
Who kinda miss me can kinda miss me, you kinda iffy
Don't know the history? I'm from the city of stop and frisk me
The cops is jiggy, they spot the blickey then try and get me
My pops a Willie, said "Give her fifty, she pop her kitty"
He Bad Boy and he Poppa really, it's not a Biggie
See my committee, block offici', it's not an ishy
Or I'm too lazy to cross roads, if not, I'm busy
It's not a mystery who shot Ricky, but where the difference
Between the tré and the dough, boy, we bred different
So bear witness, this can leave you with head missing
If y'all can hear me, I guarantee you the feds listening
So I be spittin' in barcode, nothin' left in the tap, dog
And after the last call, the bar close
They spark Cohiba, cigar blow
Even Tony Stark knows the tension is thick as Wallabee Clark soles
But did I mention I'm sick and gotta be hardcore
Hard-boiled, taking your base, that's what we ball for
Money over bimbos, that's what the Mob for
Rappers stuck in limbo 'cause they were settin' the bar low
Every time I rhyme on a track, it's like a combo
King, we put the nine to your back, it's like you Rondo
When it come to John, though, I'ma slaughter a John Doe
Drag him through a drive-thru like he ordered the combo
Hands on him, we wild style with the cans on him
Then come defeat, that's my beliefs and I stand on 'em
Give you the Beats, no Doc Dre or brands on 'em
Some band want 'em, these verses hot and the fans want 'em
I'm from the school of them hard knocks with harder standards
I've been a hard rock before they added the Arm & Hammers
I'm at the nana's, bogus method, we call it bama
Gun on the camera so we can shoot them in panoramas
Na-nana-nana, I'm feelin' petty but watch your manners
Use proper grammar so we could stop with the propaganda
No type of slander but tell them hoes "I'm not your Santa"
Just want the body, nobody tryin' to pot-and-pan ya
Cop scanners, a Fuller House but we not the Tanners
If shooters bringin' them Hawks out, then it's not Atlanta's
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
If time is money, I got time and time saved
I pull your blinds and stop shine behind shade
Nobody get 'til I got mine, my mind made
Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher
If Time is Money (Fly Navigation) Lyrics as written by Ronald Maurice Bean Clifford M Smith
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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