Yea, Whoooooooooooooooooo
You n***as know what time it is
Its time for that gangsta sh**
[Chorus]
We aint got sh** to live for
Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore
In the middle of the real war
Cause a five dollar bill is the sh** n***as k** for
I make million out yeah
I dont care about a muthaphuka out there
My heart cold and my wrist rock
You could f** around and die over Hip Hop
[Verse 1]
I treat a dollar like a mill, countin every bill
Cuz if i dont watch mine another muthaphuka will
I went double but i still tuck the steel
Im the truth, why the f** you think 50 cut the deal
Rollin in a bag of D when you cut the seal
When i bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville
I aint never had a pop. poppa never had a son
Nobody to go get, so i aint never run
They chat behind my back but they quiet when i come
They treat a lil n***a like a giant with a gun
I walk with a swagger like i always had money
Cuz i know, they rather see my black a** bummy
Aint nuthin funny just a whole lotta anger
Mind of a leader, drama of a g**ner
If a n***a come on property i aint gonna call
There'll be a splatter on ya shirt, and it aint paintball
[Chorus]
We aint got sh** to live for
Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore
In the middle of the real war
Cause a five dollar bill is the sh** n***as k** for
I make million out yeah
I dont care about a muthaphuka out there
My heart cold and my wrist rock
You could f** around and die over Hip Hop
[Verse 2]
I dont follow no rules im gettin in here with the town
And if i dont, we gonn' burn this muthaphuka down
Im comin thru swingin like they do in H-Town
And i roll down the window and spin ya b**h face around
Im a stunna, hoggin up the lane like the Hummer
Till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer
Even the broke n***a cant afford to go to sleep
f** around and get ya head popped all over the street
And i aint got nuthin for em but the heat
My lil brother want j**elry and Jordans on his feet
Now, they recognize if ya slaughterin the beat
And if it wasnt for rappin, I'd have ya daughter on the street
I been the same since Kane and Slick Rick had it
Now n***as die in the car, my whole whip had it
I worked too hard to let a n***a have it
So i pack the Automatic for the sideline static, Yea!
[Chorus]
We aint got sh** to live for
Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore
In the middle of the real war
Cause a five dollar bill is the sh** n***as k** for
I make million out yeah
I dont care about a muthaphuka out there
My heart cold and my wrist rock
You could f** around and die over Hip Hop