| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
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| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
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| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit
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| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
|
| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
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| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit
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| Swear I lost my soul when I seen Pappy in that casket
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| Promised all my brothers we gon' ball hard like the Magics
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| They like: «Why you be spazzin'?»
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| «Lil bitch, 'cause this my passion»
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| I promise I won’t stop 'till I got 20 in the Aston
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| Pull up on hater, flexing like: «I'll see you later!»
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| To these bitches, I’m a pimp, but I ain’t never wore no gators
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| Went too crazy on my team, so now my name in the debates
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| And they sayin' I’m the greatest to come out this generation
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| I’m paid, bitch, I’m paid
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| Give a fuck 'bout being famous
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| Went from being caged to receiving hella payments
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| Don’t think that I’m clueless just because I never say shit
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| In my own lane, stayin' away from all that hatred
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| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
|
| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
|
| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit
|
| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
|
| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
|
| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit
|
| Grew up in the projects, struggling, I never had shit
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| Canned goods in the cabinet, you would think that we was fasting
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| Eating once a day, had to stretch it just like gymnastics
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| But nowadays, I flip through good paper just like a tablet
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| Once you get shit cracking, they on your nuts like pistachios
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| If you fall off, they’ll walk out on you just like a patio
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| And I can’t trust a soul, so I choose to stay with that calico
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| This cannon blow, your ass’ll get shot as quick as a cameo
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| Play around, I’ma spray him down
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| Hammer Time, he nailed
|
| Hella drugs, retail
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| That’s how we ate, Sprewell
|
| Been after M’s, D12
|
| That’s for sure, no sea shells
|
| Just moved my mamma out the fuckin' hood, V12
|
| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
|
| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
|
| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit
|
| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
|
| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
|
| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit
|
| Thankful for my blessing — fully automatic weapon
|
| We just keep it for protection
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| Promise, we ain’t being reckless with it
|
| Bands on top of bands, we came from nothin', so we flexing with it
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| Runnin' up these checks, I swear you thought that we was testin' with it
|
| Nigga, we was starving
|
| We was fighting, we was arguing
|
| We was on that carpet, eight kids, three bedroom apartment
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| And I ain’t can’t forget my niggas who I lost right to them trenches
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| 'Bout my niggas who ain’t answer questions, they just took a sentence
|
| Damn near lost my life 'cause I’m really spittin' what I’m livin'
|
| Biggie said he’ll rot in prison just to see this vision fall through
|
| Just to see us win, just to see us whippin' all coupes
|
| Just to see us livin', just to see us spendin' all blues
|
| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
|
| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
|
| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit
|
| Thankful that I’m here, could be in jail or in a casket
|
| Checks on top of checks, yeah, that’s why I be talkin' cash shit
|
| On baby, like a car seat, that strap on me up in traffic
|
| And everyone I knew who had it, got it doing bad shit |