| Money, money, money, muthafuckin green
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| Reach inside my pocket, I don’t feel it, and I wanna scream
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| Nigga, give it up, cause I want every penny in your pocket
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| And your ass is goin down if you tell me you ain’t got it
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| I gotta make a profit in that Nickel Ward
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| Cause I ain’t with bein broke and times are gettin hard
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| I pull the gat and hit the boulevard huntin for a victim
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| Catch him slippin, pop the clip in, and then I get him
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| When in mama’s womb I was doomed, destined for poverty
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| And no nigga in the ghetto about to win a lottery
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| So what does it bother me to knock a nigga off?
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| I’m educated, in a robbery, bitch, I’m the boss
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| Mr. Lawman is quick to call this action a crime
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| Because they can’t tax robbery, they don’t get a dime
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| Everything’d be fine if I was working 9 to 5
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| But I can’t get that kinda job, I ain’t 5 ft. high
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| Since they don’t realize that my size ain’t shit
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| I’m gonna gaffle em and baffle em until my bank gets
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| To the maximum, I get the gat then i’m after them fast
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| Goin for bad, goin from copper to cash
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| Some people will try to jack you
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| Some people will even kill you
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| So give it to em, y’all
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| When I started writin lyrics it was like a religion to me
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| Cause when I seen the mic, you’re fuckin right, I was kickin it, gee
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| Knew that it was somethin that was gonna last a lifetime
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| When I pushed my homework aside so I could write rhymes
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| I sat in class hypnotized, my mind in a daze
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| Pretendin Bushwick Bill rippin up a stage
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| But back in the days Little Bill was soft as jello
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| And hard work pays, now I’m the hardest muthafucka in the ghetto
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| I assured I got the rhymes that was popular at times
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| But I hadn’t got my name on the dotted line
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| I couldn’t pay the dime, mama worked parttime
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| It made me so mad, I sat down and wrote hard rhymes
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| I ??? |
| cause I couldn’t pay the fee
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| Then my boy gave me a ki, in a week I made a g
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| Pretty soon I was laughin in a mansion makin profits
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| Puttin half in the bank, keepin half in my pockets
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| Cops were hopin, cops were hopin they could get me net
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| They be promoted to a captain for the big arrest
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| I wasn’t slippin, I was givin the blues the blues
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| Cause I refused to lose, I grabbed the booze and cruised
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| Up the avenue, laughin at the people in school
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| Cause they broke as a muthafucka talkin bout a golden rule
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| You’re sayin I’m a fool for droppin out
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| I’m makin millions, well daddy, what you’re talkin bout?
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| I remember scrapin up pennies for the 4-double oz’s
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| Now my refigerator’s full of Olde E
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| I used to only rap on the schoolyard
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| Now I’m in the studio droppin lyrics too hard
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| I took the road to the riches in a dash
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| Left my competators at last, they run from copper to cash
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| Some people will try to jack you
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| Some people will even kill you
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| So give it to em, y’all
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| A lotta people didn’t think that it could happen
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| They all started laughin when I told em I’d be rappin
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| But now I’m cashin in big checks from the Rap-A-Lot
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| Bill’s gettin paid, now it’s my turn to laugh a lot
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| I live the life that a lotta niggas dream of
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| I sit back and smoke cess in a steam tub
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| I got bitches and bitches and bitches and bitches
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| And more bitches on my dick, they like the size of my pockets
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| But I ain’t cuttin for a stinky piece of pearl tongue
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| She makes a move for my wallet, and the girl’s hung
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| Cause when you’re broke, you’re a joke, but when you get cash
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| Them muthafuckin stink hoes want half
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| So all of you funky-ass hoes can kiss
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| My Geto-Boy-midget-mind-of-a-lunatic-
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| Fuck-a-war-can't-be-stopped-size-ain't-shit-
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| Other-level-rap-a-lot-copper-to-cash-dick
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| But if you just wanna fuck me
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| Yeah aight, aight, you can suck a nigga’s Chuckie
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| Some people will try to jack you
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| Some people will even kill you
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| So give it to em, y’all |