Luyện nghe bài hát Countin Money

Fuck a rubber band a nigga need a buncha (X4)
[Over intro - Gucci (Yo Gotti)]
Yo, it's Gucci, brrrr, R.I.P. Pimp C mane,
(This that my, straight my)

Money all day, money all day
Count money all day, count money all, all
Count all day, count money all day, count money all
Money all, all, money all day

[Bun B - 1]
Say mane, no matta where I go, no matter I do
If chillin' wit' myself, or ballin' wit' my
The skies is lookin' cloudy or Bahama blue
I got money on my mind, so tell me what it do
And if you be like me, then you already it
We goin' for the money then we goin' through it
Take it to the table baby, it up and screw it
'Cause it nothin' to it where come from, but to do it
We get it in our hands, and then it go through the fingas
We standin' on the in a fresh set of swangas
We pop a tags, put some fresh up on the hangas
everyday struggle and can't nair nigga change us
Believe I was famous 'fore I ever did a song
Believe I had a 'fore a label put me on
It's and I ain't seein' nothin' wrong
But niggas countin' all day fuckin' long

[Yo Gotti - 2]
Money totin', carrying young nigga thugged out
Very first song I dropped was in a drug house
Razor blades, sandwich bags, Louis shoes, swag
Rubber bands, duffle bags, bills, trash bags
Apple chain on my neck, you that cost stoopid cash
Maserati for the wash, that foolish cash
chances, '6's on a muscle car
Bun helped me keep it and watch it take me far
My money fold, this money here
I ain't it for no hoes, I ain't get this off of shows
Count money all day, money all night
no one wit' my paper, so I count my paper twice
I been on out my paper, so I sleep wit' it at night
Now I wake up to my paper so I start my day off right
They call me Cocaine Gotti, and it's money over
Mr. White, he be always in the kitchen

[Gucci - Verse 3]
me Gucci
I'm the bitch you smell me
Ain't no to check ya sneakers
Three bricks, plus a split wit' me, bitch you got a hit
Big money on my leisure, pop bottles top models
Wit' my goons in Puerto Rico, yo' girlfriend freak her
Believe me I'm a giant, it to the lemurs(?)
I see my paper plus my cojan on the Sanyo
The hottest rapper you know, people look like Cujo (Gucci)
I get a thousand million ties and sold your for uno
So tune into Atlanta, please don't change the channel ma
the windows down back up
In my show my automa
out my partner, naw
Don't you this autograph?
Thinkin' you angry 'cause my neck look like the Mardi Gras