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Strike (One)
Batter got another swing
Money Machine team we do our thang
Strike (Two)
And I'm a test my luck
The pitcher going hard he want another batter up
Strike (Three)
You know that I'm gon' swing
I tip the ball now I'm gon' again
Strike (Four)
I'm gon' for the homerun
It's going, going, gone!
I take off through the moon roof
You hear a clap that's Nashawn Jones in that red coupe
You hear that, yes, I got them girl's suit
And wear that, right here I do the damn du
My plan plat, I don't care what her man do
She got some wonderful toes in them sandals
And gamble that fat ass I can handle
I don't be there on the corner, I don't scramble
A grown man I roll my weed up and bamble
And beef I take a man apart, I dismantle
Two right behind the ear, I'm from the Galaxy kid
With sought to make my salary big
I don't care how those factual's live
But with the Money Machine make a deposit and the check will be clear
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Yeah, I said the cash will be there
But if you don't produce right fun boy your casket will be there
Problems y'all don't want it, I swing that bat
I'm a dog in a world that'll kill that cat
I just lounge in the mound with my hat on back
And step up to the plate, Bonds up to bat
Nah, Nashawn jiggy spit that crack
I look nice with the siggy man my dunn go black
Yeah, you bets believe my recipe will be
Smoking that weed, the piff is a tree for me
I'm running through speed, yo Flex drop a bomb diggy
She got Money Machine tatted on her titties
Stomp hard in the city, nothing ain't pretty
But the cars and the Mac-10s, rims and the broke friends
I'm going hard; I'm trying to stress those ends
Sit nice in the Benz, I want her and her friends
Head blown in the wind, Money Machine my team
Stack nothing but suitcases of green
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Fait Ball lyrics @ elyricsworld.com
