Tech N9ne - Paper lyrics

[Intro: Bryan B Shynin] This is your big homie Bryan B Shynin from Hot 103 Jams, host of underground heat This next one is called "Paper", from that Tech N9ne Collabos, The Gates Mixed Plate, baby! [Verse 1: Jay Rock] Boy I'm 'bout my presidents Benjamins and Jacksons My name Jay Rock, a.k.a. get paper if you askin' Catch me out in traffic Traffic insult n' tragic That magic trynna get that Frank Lucas and Ricky Ross cabbage Find me on the freeway Doin' deals on the 3 way If you don't got my paper that chopper split you in 3 ways My money runnin, it should be in some relays No candles on my cake but everyday be my b-day Comin' out that gutta, b**h I'm 'bout my dollas Me and Tech up at the bank, takin' them paper showers Who gives a f** what you think, broke n***as envy hard Gats in my drawers, guns in the car Knock a n***a off It's all about survival dawg Get money, f** b**hes, rockstar I'm 'bout my paper, you 'bout some paper? Let's do some business If you cross me, hundred round magazine you gon' get your issue [Hook] Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper Do what we do to survive (gotta get it) Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper Get it like a thief in the night (you know I'm gettin') Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper I'm comin' for yours, now it's mine (all about it) Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper, paper Mind on money, money on my mind [Verse 2: Tech N9ne] I've sacrificed everything to get this f**in' money It'll be a wrap just like a mummy if you try to get it from me Think it's funny Try to get me when I'm lookin' stunny Your blood and guts runny when I bust in the middle open up your tummy, yummy Federal reserve note Better know the darn ropes Let her go with her folks, find out that she rollin' with your dope Rats never deserve hope, put a knife where there were throats Varicose veins are drained, and not a single word flows Dollars made boss, holla raised cost Cause all was in squalor because of all your days off So I gotta get paid off, I'm a baller nay lost Crosses and your wall lookin' like ragù and hollandaise sauce I'll make ya the yapa no fakin' a neighbor, forsake ya But if your face is a hater I'll erase your space on this place, ya Better take the base out your trachea I'mma waste your crepes and your Jäger Not a f**in' place will be safer I'mma say that it's scraped in my nature to chase the [Hook]