by Vamecia Powell

Money is what I make and ME is who you hate,
Money is my first, middle and last name,
I forgot yours, oh, what a shame!
I don't have the big head but the big heart instead,
While my stocks are climbing yours are in red.
I work for pocket change and still make 80 G's.
And someone once said that money isn't grown on trees.
I have a garden and that ain't even all.
And I will admit that I am gonna ball till I fall.
But I have no dreams to fall cause I am a millionaire and all
yall hollin' that it ain't even fair.
My words are keen and my poetry is clean
cause I am the original lyrical machine.
This verse is serious, not meant to be funny
so when you call my name say, "MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!"  

Money by Vamecia Powell

© Copyright 2000. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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