Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Get Yo Paper (feat. Mike D & Mr. 3-2), artist - al-d
Date of issue: 06.04.2010
Song language: English
Get Yo Paper (feat. Mike D & Mr. 3-2) |
I’ma tell you, like a nigga told me |
Money rules everything, around a G |
You gotta get up get out, get on and get your paper |
It’s Y2K mayn, no time for you fakers |
All I ever wanted, was a piece of mind |
Doing it legal going crazy, trying to deal with 5.25 |
Minimum wage ain’t the solution, shit I don’t even apply |
So it ain’t no use for Mr. Ro, to do a suit and a tie |
I exercise my right, as a real nigga when I mash |
Fuck friends, cause they don’t pay the rent give me the cash |
We soldiers and we united for it, chasing the cheddar |
We arrogant fellas, automatic rain pain baretta |
But let’s think cause I’ma ride for mine, fuck it I’ll die for mine |
It ain’t just my mouth, I gotta feed two mo' so fuck it I’ll try for mine |
Money don’t grow on trees, otherwise I’m similar to an eighth |
Meanwhile I struggle daily, lights off and the rent late |
Facing a picture day, Guerilla Maab one deep gotta deal with that |
Go in the studio and I get paid, mouthpiece I’m real with that |
Never get it twisted, if it ain’t no work I’ll go for broke |
Strong arming a motherfucker, inhaling and blow the smoke |
Who gives a fuck, about these fake ass hoes |
Niggas be lacking on pimping, I swear I’m in it for the do' |
Staying on my tippie-toes, mind clicking for the green |
Got no time for plex so what’s next, on rough sex or wolf cream |
No to mean G bitch thug life, and I’m married to the game |
In my sleep I hear my fans, guns is screaming my name |
Ain’t a damn thang changed, moving quickly for the green |
Pushing V-12's with screens, sweetly no what I mean |
Boss hogging ripping up tracks, breaking they backs |
My nigga Screw yeah he gone, but ain’t no stopping the techs |
Knock-knock we hit you right back, again and again |
Until we hit the top ten, six figgas rolling on in |
Picture that, S.U.C. |
gon ball like that |
I’m trying to put down this pen, but I can’t let you make it like that |
You steady calling out my name, so nigga hear I come |
Mashing fast like a cheetah, cause you done fucked with the wrong one |
Painful lessons as an adolescent, made me a man |
Money and power in my hand, trying to make it expand |
I went from hobo to POLO, dimes to dollars |
Diamond cuffs on my wrists, ice matching my collar |
Follow, why a lot of hard heads and G’s |
Screaming S.U.C., all about our currency |
Southside’s where we reside, we ain’t hard to find |
Catch us sipping and flipping, grain gripping with the top down |
Showing our ass, counting cash moving fast |
Diamonds on the dash, kicking in do’s like the task |
Straight mobbing, ain’t no rags see we dobbing |
Blowing big, with medication in our noggins |
Talking shit, on our cellulars |
Living it up like stars, with diamond bars in our jars |
Outlaws for life, shaking the FED’s like dice |
We go-getters not quitters, putting it down for a price cause uh |