Lyrics:
Now, listen...
My paycheck after taxes barely pays the rent
I do the town on Friday, by Tuesday, it's all spent.
Two bucks an hour, this job ain't
bed what the fuck you thought
9th Wonder didn't want to sign me, said I should sign with Wayne
Or 50 Cent, hood music he don't feel my pain
Damn I
we built
Then they must bleed
I've seen splatter hit the snow when the blood freeze
Scraps over territory they know we must keep
Get home and white
at night, tossing and turning
Underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
Pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor
(woo)
All your verses sound like dirty dishes (gross)
I'm about to clean them in the kitchen (woo)
And we making money by the minute (woo)
I'm about
where you get shot for who you stand by
So watch who you're close to
Keep it strictly business, gotta notice who all knows you
Since o-two I had a gold
Ricky Bobby, I be cruisin'
I just did a song with 50 Cent, don't give a fuck about him nigga, two-some
Overseas, talkin' guapanese, twisting lids with
get up
I know you're fed up ladies, but keep your head up
Keep ya head up, ooh, child, things are gonna get easier
Keep-keep ya head up, ooh,
of sterlings
Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms, and tri-colored shearlings
I ain't particular, I bang like vehicular homicides
On July 4th in bed-stuy
Where money
whipped, this shit is ridiculous
Shoutout to 50 Cent, man (let the Bandplay)
Huh?
Say you a gangster, but you ain't never shot nothin'
How you
thought I was a ho or somethin', that's what he get for thinkin' (ho)
Better off tryna rob a bank or somethin', I call that wishful thinkin' (well, damn)
as you get it
Money make whores, money cause wars
Money make the world go round so get yours
Yeah, money make the world go round and I got her
Buckle
Meet them at the Bodegas, noon Friday
You get the buy money then
Oh and chico, if anything happens to the buy money
Eh, pobrecito
Jay-Z's gonna stick
walked in
Said, "don't y'all get excited, I know this here's a private game
And I know I wasn't invited but I got a roll that"d choke a mule
I'm just
[Chorus: x2]
Damn, it can't get no worse than this cause I done hit rock bottom
I'mma get up on a muthafuckin' sack and a big ass bottle to solve
of shooters on the pay roll
Hold up Scooter
I got shooters
You got a shooters?
Aye man what?
Get it down by that fresh man, you're sitting by
Reminiscin' 'bout the trap, playin' the first Carter
My life changed when I had my first daughter
Got my first quarter flippin' fifty-dollar slabs
Your nigga
I'm drinkin' Hennessey, runnin' from my enemies
Will I live to be twenty-three?
There's so much pain
Tired of the strain and the pain
(Don't get
A couple of cocktails'll send me to jail
There's a couple of cops hot on my trail
But this time, when I get pulled over
There's a Doberman Pinscher
of Sterlings
Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms, and tri-colored Shearlings
I ain't particular, I bang like vehicular homicides
on July 4th in Bed-Stuy
Where money
to
Shit I'm the man who supply who supply who supply YOU
And ya'll a bunch talk money
I'm tryin to get it down for that motherfuckin boardwalk money
(Mary)
M-J, 50 Cent, G-Unit
This is simple
I feel you understand
Another man
Can't quite
Love you girl (yeah a little louder) like I can
Your
"take your clothes off!"
Ayo, the Devil planted fear inside the black babies
Fifty cent sodas in the hood, they going crazy
Dead meat placed
at weights
by da time he come home he should have saw like a million chickens
while um dis drug dealin nigga takin like 50 whippins
playin with raw
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