Chill

It was a long days work, you could finally cool out
And relax, and kick back, and look on to the perks
Of that nine to five, you stayed alive and strived
Each day, to make it happen up until you reach pay
Now its time, deposit your grip and grow
That dream that you've been having since a minute ago
With miles and miles of smooth road jogging dials
Lots of options, you eating fish, no crab or lobsters
Not an issue, god is with you
You've done good, your voice power under the hood
Is amazing for blazing trails into the uncharted
Part of life that everyone under the sun is startled by
The beating of the heart don't die
Cause I'm multi, sharper than a suit and a bowtie
Still, you got to get back to seal the deal
Yeah, you know that you've got to work
But you know that also that (You gots to chill
Your cold feet up, you worker read up
Things is good, shit is selling like hot cakes
Everybody got dough from slinging pot to blow
The block is a goal, and no pocket is low
Time to fall back, get out of this
Don't let the greed got you into a lot of shit
That's the good word, my man, just acknowledge it
Time will make every dirty dollar legit
Its a shame you had to go that route, but you can throw that out
You got low, now you can go back out
Enjoy the fruits of your labour, from scooping all the paper
That wasn't nailed down, fuck hanging around
Till the boys come taking you away for that poison
Locking you up, letting you out when you like forty-something
Your empire's already built, you getting all the bread, yeah
But you that one day (you gots to chill)
(I just want to chill)
Look at you, looking all nutty like a cashew
Running around, man, somebody goin' smash you
Frightened or not, you need to slow down
You moving too fast like a Rubik's cube, all mixed up
Got your chest poked out, boy, you Mr. Bigstuff
Just the other day you were talking 'bout shits tough
In the hood, where you be at
But now, where you be at
Around all them biatches, acting like biatch
A wise man told me I told you so
You be handsome, leave your pay for your children so
Our God is the greatest whatever date it is
On the slate kid, I put time like a state bid
Now I'm home free, at the door holding the key
Opening the door, that these ain't home for me
Still the one real, ice cold Brooklyn wheel
While I'm looking fucked up in the grill