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Nigga, what you need to do is say fuck them raps |
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See the money makin is on the ave |
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[Hook: Reks] |
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The money makers' on the ave, and they be gettin dough |
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While I was tryna rap, nigga they was sellin blow |
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The fiends was on the ave, and they was needin coke |
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Dollar dollar dollar bill, you know how the game go |
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Growin up sellin crack was a yellow brick road |
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To the dollar dollar bills, dollar dollar bills |
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Meet me on the ave, and we can get the dough |
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And we can get the dough, and we can get the cash, the cash, the cash |
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[Verse 1: Reks] |
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Fantasizing on chart climbin, I ignored the drug lords at Law |
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Adored colorful walls adorned with graffiti texts |
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On Didge's steps I damn near slept |
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Fillin my notepad with future hits |
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Hearin the city breathe a killer's breath, I wept |
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Smudgin up lines, my tears daily defying stress |
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Cause on them same steps for hours, with dealers |
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Who quit school to pitch powder, get rich, respect, power |
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Not in that order but surely somethin that's similar |
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Finish my algebra, kiss mum, pick my pen back up |
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Get lost in thought like Nasir past the margin |
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Shook hands with too many ghosts now in the coffin |
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Sad but how it be often, fiends starvin |
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Knew too many willin to feed 'em to hell's demons |
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And they say that hell would all be a big dream and |
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Fuck them raps! Wanna get this dough? |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 2: Skyzoo] |
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It's gettin that much clearer every day |
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They wantin what you hear but what you hearin's never played |
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So you could get a chair, wait in there till it change |
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Or you could hit the flair, hit the air and get your lane |
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Young'n get your pay, kickin sixteens don't do it |
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I mean it did but this seesaw music |
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Is so yesterday, so sketched and traced |
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Honestly, shit is borderline next to gay |
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Cause when the records stop sellin and the stores start closin |
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And the landlord waitin in the corners wide open |
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Huh, fuck an option, it's whoever is coppin |
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Tryna hold onto a dream but can't lock it |
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You could play with the bass, fuck around with the treble |
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Or you could play with the bass and turn powder to pebble |
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Front if you want, we all see the truth in the clouds |
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But what am I sayin? I'm standin in the booth right now, fuck it |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 3: Reks] |
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They used to tell me to chill |
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You ain't gon' pay bills tryin to be the next Will |
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'Fresh Prince' Smith, but if you stretch this |
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You'll get a quicker meal than a record deal and still |
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Keep your ties to the block, you ain't signing to rock |
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Diddy ain't gon' pop into your hood and change your life |
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Make shit all good, like shit ain't fucked up |
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On our streets, so to eat we keep |
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Them goods in the projects, it's all economics |
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You disagree? God bless, wish you the best |
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But you from Law-town Mass, who gon' listen to Reks? |
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They ain't searchin for American Idols in black hoodies |
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And doo rags, it's logic, you should be on the ave |
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Cause we be getting dough so fuck all of them raps |
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Pick a piece of pavement near the curb and pitch crack |
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Yep, it's like that, real recognize real |
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For the dollar dollar bills |
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[Hook] |
