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| Nicki Minaj|
Beam Me Up Scotty
|Writer||Onika Maraj, Trevor Smith|
|Producer||DJ Holiday & The Trapaholics|
|Beam Me Up Scotty track listing|
|"Mind on My Money" is track number 5.|
| Previous track|
"Kill da DJ"
| Next track|
"Nicki Minaj Speaks"
So keep on gettin your paper.
See I TCO, forward slash president
East side resident oh so evident
Brinx Billy ride cousin
Black on black Phantom, 26s on the side of 'em
Ninas on the side of 'em, goonies on the side of 'em
Anybody can get it boy be careful on the side of 'em
These niggas are burial, guns no serial
Money hungry honey with me, if you holla she gonna carry you
Flyer than a aerial, vechical gerital
Sittin' on my feet when I'm stuntin' on them people
I tell no fables, everything chillin'
Fax machines, office max, see me for that paper
You workin' for short bread, ain't my money long youngin'?
Bitch, I'm on trappin', more digits than a phone number
Different time zones on 'em, kill them niggas lyrcially
Left side of my closet look invaded by Italy
Right side Paris, left side flaggin'
Paper is my main chick, me and money married
And that's all a nigga know bitch
That's why them brand new niggas is all up on my old shit
I chuck my dueces, like, that's all I do, like
Young Money, Nicki Minaj, it's the Ninja, Harajuku Barbie and all of that
Nah, I'm sayin' all that me gettin' money
You writin disses, we gettin' money (yeah boy!)
And when I come them better lean like Promethazine
Them no say Nicki nice, I'm 'bout my money, mama
And tell Michelle I got my eye on Barack Obama
Tryna get that Madonna, you know, Hannah Montana
And you can find me sittin' Indian style with the Dalai Lama
Konichiwa, I get my yen and say Sayonara
I'm medatating, I'm in cahoots with a higher power
Mind on money, mi-mi-mind on my money yo
Mind on my money mi-mi-mind (Nam Myoho Renge Kyo)
Mind on money aye, mind on my money babe
How does this money taste? Whining on moneyspace
You see the signs and the teachings
If you ain't know, well this is grinding season
Now and go get your gangs signs, throw it up
Where all my niggas on them bikes? Throw it up
We don't care what you say, we ain't going away
My niggas bring the heat, it's not a summer day
So mind on my motherfuckin' money, my mind on my motherfuckin' money.
(Laughs) Flipmode bitch!
Brinx I like how we do the Brinx truck job on these niggas homie
Time after time again I like niggas and remind niggas how I hold out on motherfuckers
My money so stupid call me Warren Busta Buss, nigga
Glad it ain't a toss and everything about me butters
I've been counting money so long I see dollar signs in different colors
My money is smear and smothered, your money, you hear me brother?
Been about that bread like I was broke or still in the gutter
And in case you ain't know there will be no replacement
And them bags of arab money I got stashed in the basement, face it
When ever I shine, I glisten and when ever I talk, you listen
Ain't no money gettin' made in these streets without my permission
I keeps it drug infested, my money is well connected
It's to the point my conglomerate is well respected
You need to check my method I promise you I be the wrong nigga
That when it comes to my money, that you ever want to mess with
Grind like missionary labor, holding indigutary paper
You already know my team is filled with consiglieres, we made you
I don't give a fuck about your stipulation
Type of bread appropriate for every situation
You can tell by the jewelry sittin on my collar
From the bread to the crib, I know all about the dollar