Lyrics:
Slit throat holocaust, dark's the day of pentecost
Waiting for the ships to turn the tide
Black fiend, treachery, the numbers fall, you wear thirteen
As a nigger with the key to the mystery
Grand motta ain word don't mean shit to me
Who gives a fuck what they think, and what they see
Live how I got
No matter what the weather, we be getting our cheddar
So we can have a better tomorrow
Oh, money, cars, superstars, getting ours, working hard
For
your money and my money ain't the same damn kind
I can live your life and my life at the same damn time
See my riding out money that's your "buy your
deal that's never comin' like a priest
Black and white like a nun
These up-and-comers our sun like the break of dawn
So follow your father like
spittin' facts
Couldn't relax, the whole time I had weight up on my back
Be black gon back, I got pistols on deck
They gave 'cause seven flat, how many
pulling on the in-and let's all get high
In the back of my-Black on Black,you come through in ninety
Bumpin' you remind me with the cops right
Number twenty gotta be to make sure
That you count the money (you got to, if it don't make dollars, it don't make sense)
Singles and fives under
We were cursed, yes
Our burnt flesh, it attracts doom
Our skinned inked with this black hue
By con artists, we've been tattoo'd
It's no - henna, this
the kitty purs
All my niggas caked up, sellin' gray and beige dust
Had that money right or end up in the trunk taped up
We don't chase and duck, we only
beyond
To salvage a race for a greater good
A throne usurped by the blades black hood
Release the guillotine and face the fronzen sun
The gods have passed
with the DPG'z
[Daz]
We live (baby) because tonight I serve two thousand MC's
We live (baby) none can fuck with the DPG'z
[Snoop]
DPGC, ba-by
ABC
and
Step out my groove and let out my tools
The hammer kill, the hammer
Will make you stop
Drop and roll like you slipped
On a banana peel
Live by the code
Juvenile (Juvenile)
Baby, let me get the keys to the Rover Truck
Man, let me get this beef shit over, bruh
But wait, my nigga, Baby, he live on chrome
My
or robbed me?
(Come on come on come on)
Is they stoppin' my money? (Hell no)
(Come on come on come on)
Then it ain't no problem here
(Come
by his lonely
And Paulie getting money so them bitches all on him
And his young boys riding, they ready to fall for him
'Cause word on the street
And what you don't have now
Trying to hate on me with a glass dick in your mouth
Used to represent in Cleveland black trucks with the bumps
Drive through
why we in this shit
Remind me why we in this shit
Cause we ain't on no pile of shit
Nigga I'mma make my music from my heart
And I live and I die by
of sixes, Christmas money
Vicious consolidated drama rip bitches
The rich version of black, skyscraper paper
Wu belt makers, show & prove that all my shit
choices
Hearin' voices
I'm tryin' to live large like Rolls Royce's
Options are limited
They got me fillin' up drugs
They got me dealin'
And money they got
riding range
Or Ferrari top down, screaming, "Money ain't a thang!"
Tell me when I change, girl, but only when I change
Cause I live this shit for real,
streets of a-fucking-merica. and
Not to be fucked with, for which it stands, one nation, under the
Dope game, with liberty and money for all. gangstas that
five of all time with the live show
I walk up on the hands of people like a tight rope
And sold out key arena five times with my eyes closed
Whose
it right
Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin' (yeah, not the mid is low now, turn the mics up some more)
Our music keeps you movin' what are
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