Dirty Money Special Teamz (Ft. ILL BILL)

Dirty money
It’s dirty, filthy
Special Teamz, Ill Bill
Duck down, follow along

[Verse One: Jaysaun]
It all started in the Franklin mint
And the ink they used to print us had a light green tint
Bagged us up, stuck in a truck from Wells Fargo
Hell’s cargo shipped to a bank in Key Largo
Where all of my brothers with similar serial numbers
Intense scrutiny, security printed asunder
I wonder would they fold me? Fill me with drugs?
Will I be given to a priest as a donation from thugs?
Listen close, you don’t need to be a scholar to follow
To scan this trail traveled by the US dollar
If you hear me better holla instead of popping your collar
A lot of us stacked together like cheese in an enchilada
Used for change in the champagne room
Holding some ‘caine, exchanged for pussy and brain
Withdrawn around dawn by a strip club owner named Vaughan
From Coconut Grove with a manicured lawn

[Hook: Ill Bill]
The name’s Bill but you can call me dirty money
People lie, cheat, steal and murder for me
I’m God, no religion in the world’s above me
Let’s fight in the water holes, even Curtis love me
Make deals, hustle hard, you’ll be earning lovely
Whips and cribs is pimped out, the burn is comfy
Coke dealers, world leaders, yo we serve the country
Don’t sleep though eventually things turn ugly