Yea, Whoooooooooooooooooo
You ^!$$%s know what time it is

Its time for that gangsta %#@!

[Chorus]

We aint got %#@! to live for
Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore
In the middle of the real war

Cause a five dollar bill is the %#@! ^!$$%s kill for
I make million out yeah
I dont care about a muthaphuka out there

My heart cold and my wrist rock
You could $#&@ around and die over Hip Hop


[Verse 1]
I treat a dollar like a mill, countin every bill
Cuz if i dont watch mine another muthaphuka will

I went double but i still tuck the steel
Im the truth, why the $#&@ you think 50 cut the deal
Rollin in a bag of D when you cut the seal

When i bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville
I aint never had a pop. poppa never had a son
Nobody to go get, so i aint never run

They chat behind my back but they quiet when i come
They treat a lil ^!$$% like a giant with a gun
I walk with a swagger like i always had money

Cuz i know, they rather see my black $$# bummy
Aint nuthin funny just a whole lotta anger
Mind of a leader, drama of a gangbanger

If a ^!$$% come on property i aint gonna call
There'll be a splatter on ya shirt, and it aint paintball


[Chorus]
We aint got %#@! to live for
Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore

In the middle of the real war
Cause a five dollar bill is the %#@! ^!$$%s kill for
I make million out yeah

I dont care about a muthaphuka out there
My heart cold and my wrist rock
You could $#&@ around and die over Hip Hop


[Verse 2]
I dont follow no rules im gettin in here with the town

And if i dont, we gonn' burn this muthaphuka down
Im comin thru swingin like they do in H-Town
And i roll down the window and spin ya (*##$ face around

Im a stunna, hoggin up the lane like the Hummer
Till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer
Even the broke ^!$$% cant afford to go to sleep

$#&@ around and get ya head popped all over the street
And i aint got nuthin for em but the heat
My lil brother want jewelry and Jordans on his feet

Now, they recognize if ya slaughterin the beat
And if it wasnt for rappin, I'd have ya daughter on the street
I been the same since Kane and Slick Rick had it

Now ^!$$%s die in the car, my whole whip had it
I worked too hard to let a ^!$$% have it
So i pack the Automatic for the sideline static, Yea!


[Chorus]
We aint got %#@! to live for

Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore
In the middle of the real war
Cause a five dollar bill is the %#@! ^!$$%s kill for

I make million out yeah
I dont care about a muthaphuka out there
My heart cold and my wrist rock

You could $#&@ around and die over Hip Hop