[Rihanna:]
I got my mind on my money and I’m not going away
So keep on getting your paper

[Brinx:]
Now behold it’s your excellence
C.I.T.C.O., forward slash president
East side resident, it’s oh so evident
Brinx Billy ride cousin, black on black phantom, 26’s on the side of em
Ninas on the side of em, goonies on the side of em
Anybody get it boy be careful on the side of them
These niggas’ll bury you, guns, no serial
Money hungry honey with me when they holla she gonna carry you
Flyer than a aerial, vehicle, gerital
Sitting on my feet when I’m stuntin on them people
I tell no fables everything tailored
Fax machines, Office Max, see me for that paper
You working with short bread, ain’t my money long youngin’
Bitch I’m bout trappin, more digits than a phone number
Different time zones on em, kill them niggas lyrically
Left side of my closet, look invaded by Italy
Right side Paris, left side flagging, paper is my main chick, me and money married
And that’s all a nigga know bitch, that’s why these brand new niggas on my old shit

[Nicki Minaj:]
That’s what I did I came up out the truck you what I’m mean
I chuck my deuces like that’s all I do like
Young Money, Nicki Minaj, it’s the ninja, Harajuku Barbie and all that
Like naa’mean, all that
We getting money, you writing disses, we getting money
Yeaaaaa boiiiiii

Hit me my limousine, all in your magazine
And when I come, them better lean like Promethazine
Dem no seh 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
Could find me sitting’ Indian style with the Dalai Lama
Konichiwa I get my yen and I say sayonara
I’m meditating, I’m in cahoots with a higher power
Mind on my money, mi-mi-mind on my money yo
Mind on my money, mi-mi-mind — Namu Myoho Renge Kyo
Mind on money, ayy, mind on my money babe
How does this money taste? Whining on moneys face
You see the signs and the teachings
If you ain’t know well this is grinding season
Now go and 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 find all my motherfuckin’ money, my mind on my motherfuckin’ money

[Busta Rhymes:]
Ayo I speak foreign languages and shit but the language I speak is that money language (laughs) flipmode bitch
Brinx I like how we do the brinx truck job on these niggas homey
Time after time again I like niggas and
Remind niggas how I hold out on motherfuckers

Niggas out here fronting about they bread you can’t trust it, nigga
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 and 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, whenever I shine, I glisten, and whenever I talk, you listen
Ain’t no money getting 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 when it comes to my money that you ever want to mess with
Grind like missionary labor, holding dignitary 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 sitting on my collar
From the bread to the crib, I know all about the dollar