I'm not commodity I'm not king of comedy I'm not your magazine I'm not your television Make your money with a suit and tie Make your money with shrewd denial Make your money expert advice If you can wing it Make your money with a power ply

Took a shot of D'usse now I'm missing my woe Got money for bail I won't stay in jail Always stay on 10 like the 6 and the 4 I still can't believe he won't be hitting my phone And I said one time, one time for the real ones (for the real ones) Why they

Told mama I'm a thug nigga, drug dealer, gang banger, young nigga I'm a hustler, baby (come here, daddy) Bandana and some low cuts Still trap the 4 Don't trip I'm a hustler, baby (come here, daddy) Now I got that money, everybody love me I'm a thug

Silver threads and golden needles Cannot mend this heart of mine And I dare not drown my sorrows In the warm glow of your mind You can't buy my love with money 'Cause I ain't never was that kind I don't want your lonely mansion With a tear in every room

Ocean views, small circle it’s the chosen few I wrote it down and I followed through I bought a pound and we rolled a few I talk shit but she know its true Blessings, bitches in my section Young with all this money, I’m obsessive, weapons Turnin’ off

Oh there ain't no rest for the wicked Money don't grow on trees There ain't nothing in this world for free Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked Until we close our eyes for good I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed Oh no, I can't slow down, I

You would leave me alone But I can't turn down 20 All these bitches wanna have sex 'Cause they know a nigga got money I know I had a girl at home But that shit ain't mean nothin' to me 'Cause i'm just like every other nigga Stackin' with the wrong hitta

When you're round me Girl, when you come around me You ain't the type of lady that's known to fuck around Keep your mind on your money and you ain't looking to settle down Girl, you keep it 100, 100, 100 Yeah, girl you keep it 100, 100, 100 when you're

Blame it on the bag You can blame it on the bag If you wonderin’ why I changed up Tell ‘em the money is why I changed up I’m gettin' high smokin’ with angels You know I can hate that’s what a lame does Bring it back stackin’ this money But I still can’t

Where I'm from they push a hundred keys and it sound like Tryna make a living Come to my hood Everybody get it And for that paper all the wrong things sound right Young niggas gettin' money, young niggas gettin' money Just a bittersweet symphony I'm from