| The object of the game dawg gotta make money
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| Take money even if you gotta take the plate from me
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| If they on the run eating fuck it, take the steak from 'em
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| If it’s red, who care, man I love and hate money
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| On the real tho can’t let the love escape from me
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| Cuz the hate make a nigga wanna shake and break something
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| Trying to put my three kids in a life of luxury
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| So I gotta hustle hard to even live comfortably
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| Who the fuck said life will be like this
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| I can’t blow, man I’m rhyming ova beats like this
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| Rock a hundred dolla trees and a fresh new hat
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| My kids all got LeBron’s and my wifey stacked
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| So I don’t even know why I sit and complain
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| I got two '06's, my tax is insane
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| But the money make the world go round my nigga
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| By myself broke down, tore down off liquor
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| (Chorus) Hansi Kürsch *sample* 2x
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| I’ve lost my battle before it starts
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| My first breath wasn’t done
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| My spirit’s sunken deep into the ground
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| Ayo, it’s the American dream, the root of evil
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| That got me going bug, man I’m losing people
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| Wake up midnight, start pacing hallways
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| Got my mind on my money and it’s funny it’s all day
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| I need big whips, big chains and all that
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| Hundred acres and a mattress for a dormant
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| I’m always making moves, I can’t fall back
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| Each dolla that I lose, I’m like respond-react
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| I make a few stacks; |
| I put it all on Black
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| Cuz it ain’t neva enough and that’s actual fact
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| At the bar wit my niggas, all shots on me
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| And then I’m broke the next day, how I’m gon' eat?
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| So I work like a slave just to make ends meet
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| Infinite pursuit of cash it’ll make friends beef
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| And I’m sick of feeling like I’m down and out
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| So I’ma kick the ceilings and start whylin out
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| (Chorus) Hansi Kürsch *sample* 2x
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| Yo, ayo I gotta eat good, so a nigga got three gigs
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| I rhyme, work part-time, and I teach kids
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| Keep my pockets like I keep fridge — full
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| Gotta get that fresh fitted and them sneaks crisp
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| Not to mention all the haze that I blow
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| Had to pay my landlord wit the doe I made from the show
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| Whateva there’s left, yeah I’m spend on self
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| Cuz looking bad means feeling bad, that ain’t good for your health
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| Gotta keep up appearances
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| We Brody samples and put out records without eva getting clearances
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| Press up some shirts, sell 'em on the websites
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| Do whateva we gotta do to get that bread right
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| It cost to live and I’m the cost
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| So if I want it and I got it, I ain’t checking the cost
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| But I could be doing good wit my doe and that’s real
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| Cuz these Jordan’s on my feet coulda paid my gas bill
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| (Chorus) Hansi Kürsch *sample* 2x |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Lost Battles , by - Outerspace. Song from the album God's Fury, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп