Get Yo Money
I got dreams to avenge my brother - I'm just scoping the scene
Two years left on parole - feel like my life on a string
I got an iPhone that's dry - but my flip phone ring
Who would've thought that all my classmates grow up to be fiends
Gave my white boy a tester - he said it was fire
Got a Westwood connect - Hamilton's supplier
I jumped off the porch late - I got my game off The Wire
Keep breaking these bitches hearts and they keep flattening my tires
Couple months later I seen that same white boy out in traffic
He missing his teeth - and he keep scratching
Already know what it is ain't no need to ask him what happened
I got a 8 ball on me now fuck dude life I'ma cash in
How the fuck these crackaz get treatment while niggas get numbers
They gave that boy River City - gave my nigga 10 summers
Walked on the yard wit his locker box in a white jumper
Smoking mid outta Bible papers trying not to suffer
When they push down on you in that cell you ain't got time to think
You gon ball up or swing - you ain't gon do a thing
90 degrees in my cell I just prayed for a breeze
Hiding lamented fuck pictures from SRTs
Young nigga losing his mind - but doing right seeking counsel
Tryna closer to God but they sucking sick in chapel
These C.O.s don't fight fair - they gon mase you then attack you
Smiley if I catch you out in traffic - on god I'ma clap you
Who gon forgive all sins - who gon save me from my friends
I did a year short of a decade I ain't hear from some kin
We got two different perspectives we don't see through the same lens
They don't correct you in corrections you get worse from within
I had to look in the mirror and have a conversation
Spent too much time on the sidelines to be content wit waiting
When you sell poison for a profit some gon day you Satan
But if you was broke but now you rich others gon say you crankin
So get yo money nigga - fuck them
Get yo money nigga - dead ass
Get yo money nigga
Get yo money nigga... be safe
Two years left on parole - feel like my life on a string
I got an iPhone that's dry - but my flip phone ring
Who would've thought that all my classmates grow up to be fiends
Gave my white boy a tester - he said it was fire
Got a Westwood connect - Hamilton's supplier
I jumped off the porch late - I got my game off The Wire
Keep breaking these bitches hearts and they keep flattening my tires
Couple months later I seen that same white boy out in traffic
He missing his teeth - and he keep scratching
Already know what it is ain't no need to ask him what happened
I got a 8 ball on me now fuck dude life I'ma cash in
How the fuck these crackaz get treatment while niggas get numbers
They gave that boy River City - gave my nigga 10 summers
Walked on the yard wit his locker box in a white jumper
Smoking mid outta Bible papers trying not to suffer
When they push down on you in that cell you ain't got time to think
You gon ball up or swing - you ain't gon do a thing
90 degrees in my cell I just prayed for a breeze
Hiding lamented fuck pictures from SRTs
Young nigga losing his mind - but doing right seeking counsel
Tryna closer to God but they sucking sick in chapel
These C.O.s don't fight fair - they gon mase you then attack you
Smiley if I catch you out in traffic - on god I'ma clap you
Who gon forgive all sins - who gon save me from my friends
I did a year short of a decade I ain't hear from some kin
We got two different perspectives we don't see through the same lens
They don't correct you in corrections you get worse from within
I had to look in the mirror and have a conversation
Spent too much time on the sidelines to be content wit waiting
When you sell poison for a profit some gon day you Satan
But if you was broke but now you rich others gon say you crankin
So get yo money nigga - fuck them
Get yo money nigga - dead ass
Get yo money nigga
Get yo money nigga... be safe
Credits
Writer(s): Justin Hunter
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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