YOUNG RODDY lyrics : "4 The Money"
I blaze for them days, I have to work like a slave.
My ^!$$% said he plays for the things he was on paper,
Probation, been a long time waiting, almost drove my ^!$$% crazy.
And yeah I understand, but as long as we be praying
Ain't complaining, I'm just saying this rap %#@! 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
And 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 ^!$$% ball like a ^!$$%,
Sign my homies to the label,
Good Sense but we ain't never gave a damn.
My kicks $#&@ed 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 %#@! ain't much, but that's way more than my dad,
And now I ain't guessing, need a ^!$$% that's my man.
It is what it is, though, my ^!$$%, I'm just saying.
My father done it big, step father done it big,
My momma had a kid, so what that make me
^!$$%,the man out of the crib small thing till G.
I can handle this %#@! and there I did.
And best believe I held that %#@! down with ease,
Them good treats hold my hard times at ease,
But good grief, man, they think life for pitch, damn.
And all this dirty money give me the need for speed,
I'm trying to find a spot to play my money treat.
I work the pimp, see, I'm sipping out this jug.
A couple hours from cus and smoke it out with blood, boy.
Uh, what it's that thug life?
^!$$%, it's that the thug life.
And it's that thug life.