Various Artists - Low Income lyrics

[Intro] Let um feel the beat first I'm bout to come through your stereo Should I rhyme or start with the hook? Start with the hook To my people who don't wanna go to work Thank God it's Friday Cover me she bout to put up her skirt Thank God it's Friday Do Your mom know you act so berserk Thank God it's Friday What's the track, what's the track girl? She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday (I wanna thank my hood) [Verse 1] For makin me a star before I had fast cars And couldn't tell the difference between Whoppers and caviar Before the fame Way before things changed All I wanted to do was freestyle and get a name I used to work at the fast food restaurant For minimum wage Dreamin I'm on stage At 17 I left the house Cause my father was a minister And I didn't want the Marvin route What's goin on? Today to sell a song you need a video with soft p**n MC's in the industry You wanna tip? Don't let them pimp you like Goldy And tell Sony they better have my money Cause I play wit the Comodores and be like Lionel Richie Low Income, I stay so hungry that if 50 Cent came to rob me He'd be part of my charity (I wanna thank my hood) [Hook] To my people cuttin hair in the shops Thank God it's Friday To the thugs sweatin up in the chop shops Yo, it's Friday To my people that don't got no job Everyday it's Friday What's the track, what's the track yo? She don't wanna, she don't wanna work on Monday All the Ladies sing [Ladies] I don't feel Like cookin you no breakfast This mornin (Wyclef: All my hoodlums say) [Guys] Well, you don't have To cook me breakfast Cause your girlfriend will After you leave (I wanna thank my hood) [Verse 2] For the love of money I know kids who'll slit your throat Friday the 13th Jason wit a trench coat But you can't scare Suzie Cause her man got so many uzi's you'd think he was Cadivi Meanwhile, she's getting her nails done Crystal clear so they could shine like wit diamonds It's such a shame what happened last week Man they found her under the sheets with a letter from the Son of Sam It said to tell New York I ain't sleepin You want to be clubbin then you better pack your heat in And to my man G Swar Rest in Piece I still poor liquor 1 draw on the cocoa leaf Inhale, exhale smoke gra**es Polices in the area, but ain't no need to panic You wit Wyclef you getting in If not, then we gonna make CNN (I wanna thank my hood) To my people who don't wanna go to work Thank God it's Friday Cover me she bout to put up her skirt Thank God it's Friday Do your mom know you act so berserk? Thank God it's Friday What's the track, what's the track girl? She don't wanna she don't wanna work on Monday Yo, to my people cuttin here in the shops Thank God it's Friday To the thugs sweatin up in the chop shops Yo, it's Friday To my people who don't got no job Everyday it's Friday What's the track, what's the track yo? She don't wanna she don't wanna work on Monday All the Ladies sing [Ladies] I don't feel Like cookin you no breakfast This mornin (Wyclef: All my hoodlums say) [Guys] Well, you don't have To cook me breakfast Cause your girlfriend will After you leave Guitar Solo (Daddy, play that guitar)