Yo, wa**up, wa**up?
Holla the playa dough
Rappin' 4-Tay for the hard way for 1997, y'all listen for that
And I'm about to blaze one up for the West Coast Bad Boyz
Y'all keep on stackin' your paper man, stack it up
Invest it man, that's real
Verse 1:
Much love to all my folks with rap songs
And even the perpetrators who really don't belong
It's become an epidemic, better yet, a disease
From boys to overnight MC's
But there's enough legal tender for us to all get paid
Be like special ed, talkin' 'bout you got it made?
Six G's a night, few more G's for flights
You ain't trippin', they got your name up in the spotlight
You gots to know how to hold 'em and fold 'em, hustle with these rhymes
Show the world a hit each and every time
And videos ain't never been a problem, see me all up in 'em
Frisco, Cali livin' lavvy with the finest women
My interstate pulled up to a homicide
I'm never satisfied unless the dance floor's occupied
Carrer-wise, I'm out here rockin' the nation
It's all about results and risin' to the occasion
(chorus)
Gold or platinum, a G look splendid
Whatever happened to the paper, did you spend it?
Investments'll turn your bread around
And baby, he knows what goes up must come down
Big ballin' got the whole town sewed up
Until the six wit the liquor got him towed up
Investments'll turn your bread around
And baby, he knows what goes up must come down
Verse 2:
The 49ers do more diggin' than gold diggas
And man them playas out in Cali, them some cold n***as
Full speed ahead, the West be comin' through
Wit cardis and parties for the riders and the whole crew
But we can't allow the industry to work us
Cuz everything we do in life has got a purpose
I like to represent the town for the hell of it
Nationwide, and I'm knowin' they gon' love me for it
Mr. Hatin' and Schemin', keep on regulatin'
Now, what you in this game for? I'm in for money-makin'
Fame and glory is cool, I'm tryin' to introduce the
World to another side of bein' a producer
Just like the NFL, who gon' make it to the bowl?
Let's speak on rap now, who won platinum, who won gold?
After the smoke clears, a lot of fools be lookin' funny
All on TV but the record label get the money
(chorus)
Verse 3:
Now you wanna rap and clean the paper that you got
And hopefully, the feds that used to sweat you, forgot
About the C-notes, the kilos, even the pounds
You Nino Chill but you still known as Nino Brown
Six hundred Benz, steady clockin' major digits
Cold thangs, when you can't explain how'd you get it
There's a message to my music
I got top-notch game all in your face best to use it
One for the money, two for the show
Three for the playettes, this is for the dance floor
Might as well exercise your sk**s
And let the mini-skirts go to work, shake your fifth wheel
Gots to be versatile enought to flip the tempo
Lock up all night long with instrumental
And if you bump up, then you get a good job
Sign the wrong deal and didn't know was the mob
(chorus X2)