Tryin’ To Get A Buck

Lyrics

[Intro: B-Legit | Man] What's up, B? Ah, it ain't shit; I'm motherfuckin' sufferin', still takin' Bufferin What's up wit' you, mayne? Man, I'm tryna get a hold of some of that shit, man When it's gon' be cool? Well, it's like this, dude, I'm finna get at potna, right Right And uh, soon as I touch down on something, man, I'll give you a call Alright, man, you get back, give me a jingle or something, man Alright Alright [Verse 1: B-Legit] It takes three tanks from here to Burbank So let me get to dank and gas up, and put the cash up Call a Mexican and let him know I'm on my way Meet me sixty miles north of L.A By the Grapevine, bring about nine or ten, mate Straight Peruvian flakes So I can shake on and put the bake on a motherfucker Take on and put the make on the motherfucker Penitentiary chance, yeah, I know that's true But on the first, my motherfuckin' rent is due And my landlord ain't cuttin' back — nigga, fuck some slack 'Bout a second, shit, he's at that And I feel like puttin' my .9 in his nose I'm hard on the grind and his punk ass knows That I be stressin', reachin' for my Smith and Wesson About to teach his punk ass a little lesson About fuckin' with a Black Always on my back to scratch, but nigga, you could suck gat 'Cause I've been tryin', damn near dyin' when I'm tearing shit up Tryin' to get a buck [Interlude: E-40] Shit, tryna get this ol' shit — yo, what up, mayne You know what I'm sayin' I know I got a financial disorder But now I'm tryna like get this ol' shit together, mayne If I can't get stack now, I'll never stack Gotta keep my revenues up to par And you got to know, 40 Water's in the house And I got my boy B-Legit with me And he's on this motherfuckin' Savage tip Check game [Verse 2: B-Legit] By 12 a.m., I'm out the thighs It's time to take a ride down South I-5 And the dank got a nigga on paranoid One false move and I could be destroyed So I avoids and use a decoy You see, my motherfuckin' driver, he's a white boy Six deep in the duty, B-dub packin' fully M-11 mag with three comrades Poppin', doin' 60, using cruise control You gotta "Outsmart the Po-Po's" You know what I mean, 'cause it's a daily routine Arrived at the spot about 5:19 I walks inside, I test both sides If everything's tight, we'll be back by night Counted up the cash, loaded up the truck, and niggas got the fuck Tryin' to get a fuck [Interlude: E-40] Dead right, game tight Can't be slippin' in this vicious ass gidname, junior Your whole program'll be ruined That's why you gotta, like, stick to the symptoms of the situation Lettin' out frustration like a motherfucker Tryna get over on these sneaky ass devils Can't be riding no old raggedy ass go-cart, though, you know You know that little saying, though, man You gotta outsmart them motherfuckin' Panopo's, you know [Verse 3: B-Legit] The trip back, niggas tacked, and some tired Truck smokin' like a motherfuckin' forest fire And the only thing on my mind is the grind And I gotta get paid off all nine Called E and let him know that it's cool now But not a word 'til a motherfucker touch down Call baby, and maybe let her know, right That snow white and her friends'll be spending the night Game tight, but stuck at a standstill I'll call you back when a nigga get to Danville Dropped my phone, down a flask, then I heard a blast Got my gat off the floor and we was at war Straight tore 'cause a nigga didn't recognize We was getting trailed by a bird in the sky Hit the door and we was eastbound About a hundred miles from the motherfuckin' V-town Hittin' fences in the hood like they was mine First went the 'gnac, and then with the .9 It took time but them motherfuckers caught up And now I'm stuck like Chuck, for tryin' to get a buck