My Money Don't Jiggle Jiggle It Folds

My money don't jiggle, jiggle, it folds
I like to see you wiggle, wiggle, for sure
It makes me want to dribble, dribble, you know
Riding in my Fiat, you really have to see it
Six-feet-two in a compact, no slack
But luckily the seats go back
I got a knack to relax in my mind
Sipping some red, red wine

Shepherd's Bush, my compact push
Notting Hill Gate, my Fiat skate
With a crate of Cabernet, but not today
Because I gotta drive, I wanna stay alive
Not 'cause it's illicit, do I have to get explicit?
As a matter of fact, I sip on the yak
With Big and Reecе, 200 diamonds in their piece
I'm trying to gеt mine, so I can shine