You think that I'm made of money You've got something coming, honey This ain't no land of milk and honey My accountant thinks that's funny
Instead of trying to use your brains You sit 'round and suck my veins Your kind of rat belongs in drains You're gonna get around
You like all those big fancy cars Trendy people and their wine bars But your lying will leave its scars Get around, get on your horse
You think that I'm made of reddies That makes me choke on my Shreddies I may smile and act so sunny But this boy is not your dummyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
