[Produced by MF DOOM]

[Chorus]

M-O-N-E-Y

Never did a thing for L-O-V-I-N

Never understand what people's heads are in

Ask me what I need

[Verse 1: King Geedorah]

A fly tramp, that's what she called me

'Cause I don't wear no Stetson hats like Paul C

As y'all see, who give a fuck? Who know what is it?

These styles will be flipped to the absolute exquisite

It's like a blizzard, soon as I got home from ATL

I looked into my baby face, my boo was like, "Well!

I know your types of clientele! Thoughts, needs"

As I held her firmly, yet gentle as thе soft sea

She said, "The onе with the horse weave? The pretty one?

Or crazy, had to touch the tattoo through the short sleeve?

Which one you want if there was comp?

I was like, "Fuck around, a nigga like me, I'll probably run up in all three!"

King Geedorah, that's what they call me, either caesar or baldy

Probably have moved since last y'all saw me

By my D-low, I slaughter solo emcees, they paper-thin

In they Polo, Nautica, or DK men

Amen! It's funny how significance make a difference

Notice parables of three in every other inference

For instance: "Who wants to battle? On the real?

Choose your weapon: microphone, beats, or the wheels-of-steel"

I own a crown in all three for getting down without a doubt

Plus I'd like to give a extra special out to Jet Jaguar, the Sun, Moon and star

The Monster Island clique niggas- y'all know who you are

Get that!

[Chorus]

We get the M-O-N-E-Y until the day dry

Never did a thing for L-O-V-I-N

Hit me with what I need

[Verse 2: Megalon]

Coming straight from the black lungs, I rip tracks for all players that pack guns

And stack ones that pack, son that doing the phat runs

To my peeps that close, so's ya' knows what's up

Y'all know the dough's quick, hoes lick nuts but 5-O flip like, "What?"

Like they wanna shmoosh us, just to packing the pushers

I'm packing gat then bust a cap at po-po if they catch us and try to push us

Since when I'm in New York I don't be taking no shit?

I be that drug dealing nigga that be fucking yo bitch!

[Verse 3: King Geedorah]

What a fella! Like Salt, Pepa, Spinderella

I came to spark the deaf, dumb and blind like Helen Keller

If I'm not with George of the Jungle, if he not with Stella

Or either Priscilla, I'm doing dips on Godzilla

Though y'all know he don't play, right?

When TNT would throw a nigga out a moving van in broad daylight

Plus he was shackled by hands and feet

Then they say he tried to escape, once his face scraped the concrete

Near the curb on Monster Island, 103 Street

Where niggas run the risk of getting swallowed once the Beast eat

I'd rather lay in the cut, collect cash pay

The only TNT I seen was Gilligan Castaways

What?! With Mary Jane and Ginger

See both them tricks spent the night by accident, I creeps like a ninja

What?! When the mack is bent, who can give one fuck?

Get bucked, get broke up like the three-piece nun-chuck

Y'all sun struck, these niggas is sick to their head-piece

The three-headed beast, I'll bring the drama to a dead cease

Word is bond, niggas is sick to their head-piece

Gamma and Megalon bringing drama to a dead cease

[Outro]

(Get that money, god)

Sick to their head-piece

(Get that money, god)

(Get that money, god)

(Get that money, god)

I was in the cut..

Greenbacks ... the meanest green stacks

Monster Island

[Chorus]

M-O-N-E-Y

Never did a thing for L-O-V-I-N

Never

Ask me what I need, I need your

M-O-N-E-Y