Dead Presidents III

Lyrics

[Produced by Ski Beatz] [Verse 1: Ab-Soul] I defy odds, even if I divide y'all At least 10 percent of my rhythm is arithmetic Killer with the wit, drench 'em in the spit Infrared hot, chillin' with your bitch You're dead right, you're dead wrong without your dead presidents I'm an old head, but Ab stack bread present tense What part about making money represents you? You're on the broke side, I rock your boat ride, don't cry Get your paper up, like hands at my shows I send this verse through MoneyGram, a hundred grand for my flow Aside from the fast cars and the chains that glow There's gotta be a better way to go Like them backstreets, ducking them sobriety tests Blunt in the ashtray, Colt 45 on your breath Fuck what Ab say, I told Carlito it's that way Blow dinero, torpedo through your national bank And pay attention, niggas [Chorus: Jay Rock] Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny Get, get money my niggas Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny Get, get money my bitches Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar] You probably thinking I'm aggravated when I say I foresee the future Minus the white boy on Final Destination They say it's one Nation under God But my reality, one person under a gun And the funny thing My paper chasing just begun Still premature and being the black entrepeneur In this world where we lust for more money, cash and whores Got me defining life without my high school thesaurus Blink twice when you see my Porsche headlights My car is better than yours I rub it in, like over-the-counter ointment You're in desperation thinking that you can coexist With the immortal vocalist, Ford dealerships ain't this focussed Even when barefooted, the funky rhythm I still kick Dead presidents is the medicine for my evil heart More Franks than a ballpark, porcupine sharp When I dress, when I talk, a dollar bill eject My conversations about money, what you expect? [Chorus: Jay Rock] Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny Get, get money, my niggas Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny Get, get money, my bitches Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny [Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar & Ab-Soul] Finna diminish any nigga tryna get involved The fuck they be thinking? Nothing at all They go against, but still can't float against No options, flows like a cheese pizza, no topping Big rig through both lanes, you play possum You can't see me, flow cleaner than the water made by Fiji Money clip like "Feed me"; flyer than an airman straight from Tuskegee Shoot you out the air, man, bring your high down The next morning your hungover from the sober sound Or the four pound, Soviet Unions in your town What your homies doin'? Theres some more bullets to go around, now We can all get paper like Xerox Or we can just reset Tetris and clear blocks Or better yet, sum us out the money and buy stock Or call Will to the car dealer and buy the lots Getting paid, period, every hour on the dot [Chorus: Jay Rock] Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny Get, get money, my niggas Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny Get, get money, my bitches Get money, being broke is a joke – homie, it ain't funny