Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Paper , by - Tech N9ne. Release date: 26.07.2010
Record label: Strange
Song language: English
Paper |
| This is your big homie Bryan B Shynin from Hot 103 Jams, host of underground |
| heat |
| This next one is called «Paper», from that Tech N9ne Collabos, The Gates Mixed |
| Plate, baby! |
| Boy I’m 'bout my presidents |
| Benjamins and Jacksons |
| My name Jay Rock, a.k.a. get paper if you askin' |
| Catch me out in traffic |
| Traffic insult n' tragic |
| That magic trynna get that Frank Lucas and Ricky Ross cabbage |
| Find me on the freeway |
| Doin' deals on the 3 way |
| If you don’t got my paper that chopper split you in 3 ways |
| My money runnin, it should be in some relays |
| No candles on my cake but everyday be my b-day |
| Comin' out that gutta, bitch I’m 'bout my dollas |
| Me and Tech up at the bank, takin' them paper showers |
| Who gives a fuck what you think, broke niggas envy hard |
| Gats in my drawers, guns in the car |
| Knock a nigga off |
| It’s all about survival dawg |
| Get money, fuck bitches, rockstar |
| I’m 'bout my paper, you 'bout some paper? |
| Let’s do some business |
| If you cross me, hundred round magazine you gon' get your issue |
| Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper |
| Do what we do to survive (gotta get it) |
| Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper |
| Get it like a thief in the night (you know I’m gettin') |
| Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper |
| I’m comin' for yours, now it’s mine (all about it) |
| Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper |
| Mind on money, money on my mind |
| I’ve sacrificed everything to get this fuckin' money |
| It’ll be a wrap just like a mummy if you try to get it from me |
| Think it’s funny |
| Try to get me when I’m lookin' stunny |
| Your blood and guts runny when I bust in the middle open up your tummy, yummy |
| Federal reserve note |
| Better know the darn ropes |
| Let her go with her folks, find out that she rollin' with your dope |
| Rats never deserve hope, put a knife where there were throats |
| Varicose veins are drained, and not a single word flows |
| Dollars made boss, holla raised cost |
| Cause all was in squalor because of all your days off |
| So I gotta get paid off, I’m a baller nay lost |
| Crosses and your wall lookin' like ragù and hollandaise sauce |
| I’ll make ya the yapa no fakin' a neighbor, forsake ya |
| But if your face is a hater I’ll erase your space on this place, ya |
| Better take the base out your trachea |
| I’mma waste your crepes and your Jäger |
| Not a fuckin' place will be safer |
| I’mma say that it’s scraped in my nature to chase the |