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4 the Money
by Young Roddy

Uh, I shipped it off and got paid
I blaze for them days, I had to work like a slave.
My nigga said he balze for the things he was on paper probation,
Been a long time waiting, almost drove my nigga crazy.
And yeah I understand, but as long as we be praying
Ain't complaining, I'm just saying this rap shit gonna make us major.
I mapped out my planes, passed a little to my men,
By belong my right hand I swear look out we get this paper.
Now my eyes low like a major state, blow like the ancients
Send my mama to Jamaican when I make it
I promised my girl a gold bracelet, got daughter a Mercedes
Soon as I get my pesos no clan,
I bet a nigga ball like a liquor,
Sign my homies to the label,
Good sense, but we ain't never gave a damn.
My kicks fucked up, cause I be getting out the mud,
A couple ounce from cos and smoke it all with blood, boy.

What up, Mike, that's my step-dad,
Homie thought me how to fix a flat, thought me how to bet.
I know that shit ain't much, but that's way more than my dad,
And now I ain't guessing, need a nigga that's my man.
It is what it is, though, my nigga, I'm just saying.
My father done it big, step father done it big,
My momma had a kid, so what that make me
Nigga, the man out of the crib small thing till G.
I can handle this shit and there I did.
And best believe I held that shit down with ease,
Them good treats held my hard times at ease,
But good grief, man, they think life for pitch, damn.
And all this dirty money give me the need for speed,
I'm trying to find a spot to play my money treat.
I work the pimp, see, I'm sipping out this jug.
A couple hours from cus and smoke it out with blood, boy.

Contributed by Cameron I. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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