Tip-Off

Eric MartinEric Martin 

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Eric Martin

Eric Lee Martin (born 10 October 1960, Long Island, New York) is an American rock singer/musician active throughout the 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s both as a solo artist and as a member of various bands. He earned his most prominent success as the frontman for the hard rock/glam metal band Mr. Big, a supergroup (currently reunited) who scored a big hit in the early 1990s with "To Be with You," a song that Martin wrote during his teen years. more »

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Don't it feel good when you finally get yours  
Talking dreams not rich poor  
I will admit I'm kinda pissed off  
Cause I been cutting like a gym star  
And they just wanting me to bench warm  
I need my soul filled  
Lost a sense ain't got no feels, this shit is so real  
Nana raised me on the oatmeal 
I'm strong willed, well suited how they been riding my coat tails  
It's like, you can't teach what God blessed me with 
Nine times out of ten y'all on defense  
Fear no evil, my pride in sequence  
Blind to hate now, to say it is needless 
I done my hands in things I ain't have no business in  
But I had to get some business in 
You speaking tired we ain't Michelin  
Girl its deuces only see me when they talking dividends  
Beep, Beep 
Caught up in my lane, I gotta focus on me  
The devil keep on tryna get a hold onto me  
And I won't ever let 'em get control over me 
Cause I know what I need 
So I creep, creep  
Keep it all discreet 
Hustle hard give it all talking each week  
I get mine, you get yours 
We getting started off the tip off 
They saying who would've thought, nigga me  
We had to pay this isn't free, it ain't easy please believe  
Felt like god was playing hide and seek with the key 
No matter how they wear it, it ain't never what it seems  
It's beautiful here, we choose what we wear  
I kept playing for the seat it was musical chairs  
I can finally sit and plan out a lucrative year  
It's hard to see but it's feelings, we vision impaired  
I had a lil shorty stressing me cause I don't got much time 
Mama you want steak or the lunch line 
Listen I don't know about you but I want mine  
So shit, the last thing up on my brain is the pics in the sunshine 
What y'all want me to do, stand to side  
Watch my demise 
Discard my plan to survive  
Just give it up to god, right  
Yeah nigga I bet, I'm going until it's no time left woah
Beep, Beep 
Caught up in my lane, I gotta focus on me  
The devil keep on tryna get a hold onto me  
And I won't ever let 'em get control over me 
Cause I know what I need 
So I creep, creep  
Keep it all discreet 
Hustle hard give it all talking each week  
I get mine, you get yours 
We getting started off the tip off 

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