CORTE ELLIS


Money On The Floor (remix) Lyrics

[Intro: Corté Ellis]
Stuntin like a muh'f**ker
I be I be I be, I be on that on that (Slaughterhouse!)
On that on that on that on that

[Crooked I (Corté):]
Yo, million dollar +Playboy+, bunny ears and all
The reason for the long ears, money hears it all
She say "I love you papa, " then I grab my chopper
Tell her pull over to box the lights, honey here's the mall
(Money on the floor) I tear it down wall-to-wall
If I'm not spendin Kobe paper at least I'm Pau Gasol
I spend to live lavish, I get to the cabbage
I'm sicker than average, I'll give your chick my stimulus package, uhh

[Corté Ellis:]
I got a lot of cars, got a lot of jewels
Spend a lot of money women say I act a fool
When I'm in the club, bottles in my hand
Stuntin like a (muh'f**ker) watch me do my do my do my (dance)
Is this your girl? Cause homie if it is
Get her from my table cause you know what it is
I'm tryin to get her home, when she done with that Patrón
She don't pick up the phone, then you know what's goings on
She lookin at my watch, and not just for the time
Attracted to the shine, she attracted to the grind
I'm 'bout to make her mine, then get up in her mind
Then get up in her spine, man she better recognize I got

[Chorus x2: Corté Ellis]
(Got) Money on the floor (got) money on the floor
(Got) Money on the floor (got) money on the floor
(Got) Money on the floor (got) money on the floor
You get that girl? I get that girl; you get that girl? I get that girl

[Joe Budden]
Okay, uhh, get this paper, uhh
Look, look look; she told me she couldn't help it
So then it's a overload maybe somethin you gon' need help with
Like soon as we weld it (ohh)
Heated up, melt it (or) beat it up, welt it
When she scream that she never felt it I knew it's a job I well did
I ain't on no wealth shit but the V is like a stealth shit
(Or) Or aircraft, my share cash got her near fast
Way she wear that, I threw the dough in the air
Enough to keep you off that blow for a year, let's get it clear
Joey!

[Chorus: w/ ad libs]

[Royce Da 5'9":]
Nickel (woo!)
Nickel-Nine I'm so ghetto, fo', metal
Walk around on money like I'm Akeem and them dollars is rose petals
And I keep that dough handy - that sweet smell of money
I sniff it, I get high, I call it nose candy
Mama take a flick – 20 thousand on me
Every G that's in my pocket separated by a paper clip
Every G that's with me separated by a AK clip
We 'bout that white, okay-K-K
Step back, my niggaz throwin

[Chorus: w/ ad libs]

[Joell Ortiz:]
Uhh, first it starts in my pockets in thick rubber bands
Then it makes it's way to the bar next to my cup of Grand
Marnier, wish it would stay there but it can't parlay
When it sees a runway, it takes flight, and lands by they lingerie
Especially when they body's sweet like, crème brûlée
And that booty puts they thong away
I'm havin fun, all you haters can keep lookin
Matter fact, don't keep on lookin, I'm from Brooklyn
We gon' end up puttin money on the flo'

[Chorus: w/ ad libs]

[Corté Ellis:]
Now what I'm 'posed to do, with all this money
Ridin in a spaceship, they look at me funny
Donald Trump money, that Bill Gates money
Warren Buffett money, can't take nuttin from me
Now what I'm 'posed to do, with all this money
Ridin in a spaceship, they look at me funny
Donald Trump money, that Bill Gates money
Warren Buffett money, can't take nuttin from me, ohh

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