Letras
Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
I'm the motherfuckin' Pope and I make I make money!
I got a house made of gold and a city to match
Bulletproof when I roll so don't play me like that
Priceless art where I pee, my loo's a Louvre like that
Got your country's GDP in the jewels on my hat
Hustler of all hustlers, wanna see the proof?
Greatest artists of all time, I got 'em paintin' my roof
And for a low, low price I'll let ya come and see,
Just exit through the gift shop as ya go to leave
We accept all credit cards if you've no cash today,
Put a couple Pope bobbleheads on layaway,
Buy as much as you want, buy as much as you're able,
Just don't let Jesus in 'cause he'll start flipping tables!
(Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
Make money, make make money
He's the motherfuckin' Pope and he makes he make money!)
Mmm, look at the ass on him,
He's got a face that's an eight but an age of ten
If a Priest gets fresh and a complaint comes in,
Switch him to another city then game on again!
'Cause I got eff you money used for underage
Stackin' paper higher than the rate of Africa's AIDS
But no condoms, guys! 'Cause God gets enraged,
Just keep prayin' and passin' 'round them offering plates.
Portfolios to uphold for the government bonds,
You know, those things countries use to finance all of their bombs?
'Cause God is love, but he still invests heavily in hate;
You seen the maintenance fees to maintain pearly gates?
((*crying*
-"Hey girl, what's wrong?"
-"My grandmother just died!"
-"Oh, well I'm real sorry to hear about that! You know, it'd be a shame if someone were to stick her in a place where she just burned and burned forever... you don't want that, do you?"
-"...n-no..."
-"You know, I think I'm gonna have to get some of my boys to pray real, real hard to make sure that doesn't happen, don't you?"
-"Y-yes, yes please, I'll... thank you!"