O.T.F.T.M.

Ay — get money or get gone
OT yes!
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
(King Tef)
OT get that Louis, OT get that S-class
OT on my passport, get me so fly I got jetlag
OT got her on me, OT make her owe me
OT got her wearin that she turn around and gon pay it back
Overtime on that sober grind
Stay gluten-free, but I’m stackin bread
Go head mess with my money
You won’t act up, you’ll act dead
Like palm readers I feel my hands
Play Diddy I’m makin bands
I’m overtime like its playoffs
And you getting fired on your day off
That money clip got me fo mine
You loosin yours I’m holdin mine
MOT like MOB we getting money overtime
I’m affording mine, I’m affording yours
My bank account’s just more than yours
Like they say big money talks
But mine’s just talkin over yours
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
(Tdot Illdude)
Outta town, never outta bounds
Colorado got hella pounds
Hit the slope and I’m blowin loud
Niggas know how I hold it down
Climb the pole and she goin down
Outta town for that money bag
Outta town for them greenbacks
No debit card, nigga straight cash
Don’t fuck with them niggas
If they not tryin to get it
All my niggas winnin
Hustle hard from the beginning
The hustle never endin
I be runnin shit like Emmitt
I don’t see no ending
I feel like Master P
I don’t see no limit (I don’t see not limit)
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
OT for the money
OT for the money, yeah
(Hypnautic)
Chasing the money’s like chasing a bitch
Stay up in the spot collecting my grip
D-double my dollars but off of the grid
Trusting nobody head spinnin like rims
Off weed my statement 8 figures
Fuck broke I was born a go-getter
Wild wild west in CO with triggers
Pay all my bills off a few features
Ahhh put half in the bank
The rest is in hiding call it Ann Frank
Repping my city running the state
Met your girl on the pol]e blind date
Drop the pounds but never lose weight
No more games I bought the arcade
Sage I’m letting it burn
If it doesn’t make money I’m never concerned
First up always beating the sun
Last one to sleep and it making me numb
Red Bull mix it up with the rum
She wanted to fuck, wouldn’t give her the tongue
Hometown I’m a hero like Krit
Mason the way I’m laying the bricks
OT is what cuts the checks
OT how my pockets get thick
This ain’t how the west coast rock
(OT for the money)
This is for the g’s and this is for the hustlas
(OT for the money)
This is for the hustlas now back to the g’s
(Mr. Midas)
Yeah, West up on my O’Shea
Been smoking chronic I don’t know Dre
The homie Jose tell ‘em ole
Don’t solve it in a year, that’s a cold case
Different real estate and made a grow space
It’s pimpin on the tracks, stay in a ho’s place
OT that’s that time and a half
I never count the minutes, just up til I crash
Nigga got a hundred jobs they callin me Slash
Rap game, crap game, this shit like the ave
Money hungry, my appetite, she acted like
I give a fuck in the long run, wrong one
Turned up volume ten pistol grip pump
Double shift back to back and a side hustle
Workin thru carpal tunnel, pulled thigh muscles
Runnin to the paper running to the scratch
I’m runnin to that dolla running to that sack
(Laughter)