| My 1st Chemistry Set
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| Blocks, Chemist
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| Cook up
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| Yeah
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| Finished with this last hundred thou' through the money counter
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| Movin' the bag and I’m runnin' out in record timin'
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| Geneva band bright, with excessive diamonds
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| All you can move is puppy chow and New England clam chowder
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| You mismatchin' designers, I’m? |
| and the powder
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| And V12's and problems, and I ain’t have a license
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| As I multiply and divide addin' money
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| I never paid attention in class except for math and science
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| Live in the lap of lux, smokin' on Cali’s finest
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| These niggas so puss you’d have thought that they had vaginas
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| That’s why we clap 'em up, ten packs, bloodclot 'em
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| I got ninety nine problems and a brick ain’t one
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| I got thirty five shots, yeah the clip that dumb
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| And my handgun it look retarded as a chopper
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| We built this from the ground up, started from the bottom
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| It’s Concreatures, game time, money ain’t a problem
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| Pocket full of stacks
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| I had to take into consideration
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| That when you gettin' money, ain’t no limitation
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| To what niggas’ll do to get they hands on this paper (better tell 'em)
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| Have my critters come and lay down that demonstration
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| Cause niggas hate it when you get they bitches naked (bold)
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| And your chain made out of a bunch of tennis bracelets (cold)
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| And your closet full of fresh, put one in the sky (do it)
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| We’re talking nothing but the best that money can buy
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| I got real expensive taste and I live an extravagant lifestyle
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| My left pocket: six G’s, the other one: ten bands
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| And my watch on Swizz Beatz: I’m the one man band man
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| Four in my right palm, two in my left hand
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| In the back of the club doin' the band dance
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| All around the board, I was born in the USA
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| Guess you could say this an American Band Stand
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| Three hundred eighties got my man jammed
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| Now it’s meet me at the Little Caesars my baby
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| I got them pan pans
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| Half assed think you slick, with a bag full of tricks
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| While you try’na penny pinch, I’m try’na cram jam
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| Twenty two grand in my True Religion brand pants
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| I sold a hundred grams, that’s another ten bands
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| Put a one on it, that’s an extra ten grams
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| I cook so much dope, I need two wristbands
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| And I ball so hard, I need a headband
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| It’s Concreatures till I’m dead or in the fed pen |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Consideration , by - BOLDY JAMES. Song from the album My 1st Chemistry Set, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп