Cross Me
Money Man
00:00
02:39
Song Introduction
“Cross Me” is a track by American rapper Money Man, showcasing his signature style and lyrical prowess. Released as part of his recent projects, the song explores themes of loyalty, trust, and resilience in the face of adversity. With its catchy hooks and strong beat, “Cross Me” has resonated with fans, highlighting Money Man's ability to blend smooth melodies with impactful verses. The song has contributed to his growing reputation in the hip-hop scene, solidifying his place as a distinctive voice in contemporary rap.
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Lyric
This the hardest tape I ever dropped
She the baddest I done ever hit
This the strongest pack I ever bought
This the fastest car I ever drove
I be having racks online, I got million-dollar schemes
I got Chrome Heart jeans and a Ruger with the beam, yeah
Vegan, nigga, I don't eat no wings
Bae ridin' with me just to roll my weed
Yammin' on niggas like Joel Embiid
Was a young thug like Gotit and Keed
Foreign car crank up, it ain't got keys
A1 'za buds, they ain't got seeds
I just caught a play in a VLONE tee
Straight to the source, can't middle-man me
She ain't even charge, I just hit the bitch free
Eight to seven racks on me, all of 'em free
Couple BINs on me, check the fake ID
LV belt and a plain white tee
Bitches hatin' on the kid, they wanna crucify me
I tapped out, wasn't satisfying me
You ain't gotta fake it, don't pacify me
If you ever try me, that's an R.I.P.
I thought you loved me
I thought you fucked with me
You tried to cross me
You tried to off me
Black lives matter, so I'm burning black Runtz
Trap still jumping, made fifty this month
Big bag chillin' while I'm stuffin' my blunt
Big boy mansion, three whips in the front
My dawg just died, so we goin' on a hunt
Nigga gon' shoot, we ain't shootin' no one
Collectin' our straps, we ain't sellin' no gun
Workin' all day, we ain't havin' no fun
Weed fast, nigga, gotta clear out my lungs
Heard he was tellin', gotta cut out his tongue
Go and get a bag, these niggas just bums
Ridin' 'round the city with a hundred-round drum
Bitch-ass nigga, quit poppin' your gums
I just did an IJ for a hundred-and-some K
Eatin' every fuckin' day like a fuckin' entrée, yeah
Fifty-five racks in a Goyard bag
Put it on ice, you done made the opps mad
Finessed me a nigga, oops, my bad
Pull up to the set in a Cadillac truck
With a Glock 9 tucked, gotta make these bucks
These rap niggas suck, if it's slumped, then it's up
She just want it hard 'cause she like it real rough
Old-school OG smell like must
Get to the money, yeah, nigga, I must
Cheap 38 and the handle got rust
Everything turn gold that I touch
I thought you loved me
I thought you fucked with me
You tried to cross me
You tried to off me
Black lives matter, so I'm burning black Runtz
Trap still jumping, made fifty this month
Big bag chillin' while I'm stuffin' my blunt
Big boy mansion, three whips in the front
My dawg just died, so we goin' on a hunt
Nigga gon' shoot, we ain't shootin' no one
Collectin' our straps, we ain't sellin' no gun
Workin' all day, we ain't havin' no fun
Weed fast, nigga, gotta clear out my lungs
Heard he was tellin', gotta cut out his tongue
Go and get a bag, these niggas just bums
Ridin' 'round the city with a hundred-round drum
Bitch-ass nigga, quit poppin' your gums