Lyrics Bout a Dolla - Blended Babies, The O'My's, Chance The Rapper

Bout a Dolla

Living the dream ain’t all it seems\nSome turn fiends for the paperback greens\nTruth be told, it’s all I know\nI’d rather go blind than lose my soul\nRather not eat if it means I can’t speak\nI don’t lose sleep over niggas who’s sweet\nSee this whole dream was built on cream\nIf it ain’t about a dollar why you talking to me?\nSee oil’s still spillin', niggas still chillin' tho\nWe in your house like the rock through the window\nYeah ho, and it’s like that for you\nAnd you thought that I wasn’t going to mention this at all\nIt’s about to blow and everybody’s on dope\nLike who hasn’t died from a fuckin' overdose\nWell here’s a song, get on, methadone\nTake the edge off, slid off, how you love that\nThis is how we do it, we writin' them real raps\nI ain’t got to worry about gettin' my chain back\nCuz niggas know I don’t need to get mine snatched\nAnd I hope when they hear this they can feel where I’m at\nLike back in the day buying tapes before sacks\nMacks catch a case in the face, Max pen\nAnd it happened to some friends\nThey intentions were waybetter than their decisions\nI’m not finished\nCall every number on my phone like 'you heard that new song, that came on\nIt was wild, that nigga Chuck lost his mind on that line'\nAnd it rhymed like…\nTwenty-Twelve is here, we all is avatars\nWe all be livin' large, we all got pretty broads\nThe whole globe is ours, we taking over the earth\nYou thought it was bad now, this shit is going to get worse\nCuz niggas with money too flashy, unruly\nBrain washed by this life, it’s like a movie\nStay the realist to the end, call me young Abbie Hoffman\nHear about em all the time, we don’t see em often\nAnd he don’t fit in with all them cornballs\nIt’s going down to late to warn ya’ll\nThis is how real niggas get down, too laid back\nCause attention is for girls, that’s why she’s wearing that\nLittle rapper, wrap up all that trap rap bullshit\nYou can dancer, back up (IGH)\nDamn dear prancers, don’t dash for dames\nDon’t dip for chips, don’t give up your chain\nLet me flash the bang, wait and see if they buck\nLet me see if they miss, if they hit me it’s luck\nIf they touch me I quit, I’m a rapper’s delight\nI’m the rapper to like, a comma after the the\nGot a bad appetite (IGH)\nFake food that’s that shit I dislike (IGH)\nFake boobs that’s that shit I did like (IGH)\nShe likes the mixed drinks\nI like the mixed type\nShe got an accent\nShe loved the mixtape\nOh you’re english?\nYou heard of Chuck The Rapper?\nYou heard of Chance The Ripper?\nYou wanna fuck a rapper?\nLife’s funny like that, like that\nMake it then you bring it right back, right back\nThe things that people are willing to do when they want to go straight to the\ntop\nIntegrity’s always important regardless if you ever make it or not\nI seen enough of the suffering, what will we do and amounting to nothing and\nNo method for kissing and hugging the babies, they hatin' instead of lovin' them\nAnd what’s up with the government, it never get better\nWe forever fight over cheddar, so what does it matter who running it — democrat\nor republican\nStay on top of your business, let nobody stop you from living the dream\nTry to be careful about what you do because nothing is as good as it seems\nOut of the dark, steppin up hard into the light\nWhatever’s wrong you can do right, Going against everybody in spite\nLovin' the thoughts they might be having about you not bein' able to come with\nit on em\n…until you shitted on em\nEnemies finna face defeat, so they finna hate me\nCame through in the place to be in a Benz, Mercedes\nThey way I spit I’m laced with heat so they imitate me\nFlow over interracial beats — Blended Babies