[Intro]. Fuck a rubber band a nigga need a buncha birds (X4). [Over intro - Gucci Mane (Yo Gotti)]. Yo it's Gucci brrrr R.I.P. Pimp C mane brrrr. (This that straight my straight my). [Chorus]. Money all day count money all day. Count money all day count money all money all. Count money all day count money all day count money all. Money all money all money all day. [Bun B - Verse 1]. Say mane no matta where I go no matter what I do. If chillin' wit' myself or ballin' wit' my crew. The skies is lookin' cloudy or Bahama water blue. I got that money on my mind so tell me what it do. And if you be like me then you already knew it. We goin' for the money then we goin' right through it. Take it to the table baby chop it up and screw it. 'Cause it ain't nothin' to it where come from but to do it. We get it in our hands and then it go right through the fingas. We standin' on the system in a fresh set of swangas. We pop a couple tags put some fresh up on the hangas. That everyday struggle and can't nair nigga change us. Believe that I was famous 'fore I ever did a song. Believe I had a poppin' 'fore a label put me on. It's 2010 and I ain't seein' nothin' wrong. But niggas countin' money all day fuckin' long. [Chorus]. [Yo Gotti - Verse 2]. Money totin' pistol carrying young nigga thugged out. Very first song I ever dropped was in a drug house. Razor blades sandwich bags Louis shoes stoopid swag. Rubber bands duffle bags small bills trash bags. Apple chain on my neck you know that cost stoopid cash. Maserati for the wash that's that foolish cash. Penitentiary chances '6's on a muscle car. Bun helped me keep it real and watch it take me far. My money don't fold this money here. I ain't make it for no hoes I ain't get this off of shows. Count money all day count money all night. Trust no one wit' my paper so I count my paper twice. I been on wit' out my paper so I sleep wit' it at night. Now I wake up wit' to my paper so I start my day off right. They call me Cocaine Gotti and it's money over bitches. Mr. Everything White he be always in the kitchen. [Chorus]. [Gucci Mane - Verse 3]. It's me Gucci. I'm the shit bitch you smell me. Ain't no need to check ya sneakers. Three bricks plus a split wit' me then bitch you got a hit. Big money on my leisure pop bottles wit' top models. Wit' my goons in Puerto Rico yo' girlfriend I'ma freak her. Believe me I'm a giant leave it to the lemurs(?). I only see my paper plus my cojan on the Sanyo. The hottest rapper that you know people look like Cujo (Gucci). I get a thousand million ties and sold your guys for uno. So tune into East Atlanta please don't change the channel ma. Roll the windows down back up. In my Phantom show my automa. Hangin' out my partner naw. Don't you want this autograph?. Thinkin' that you angry 'cause my neck look like the Mardi Gras. [Chorus]. By Diegão