Love Or Doe

Lyrics

[Intro] Do you make a lot of money out of your music? Money? I mean, what is a--how much is--how much is a lot of money to you? Yeah, that's a good question. Have-have you made say millions of dollars? No Are you a rich man? When you mean rich what you mean? Do you have a lot of possessions? (oh) Lot of money in the bank? Possession make you rich? I don't-I don't have that type of richness My riches is life Forever Yeah [Hook] When you grow up, what you wanna be? When you grow up, what you wanna be? When you grow up, what you wanna be? When you grow up, what you wanna be? [Verse:] Hot in this rap shit, tape full of classics Everything lavish. Post a backlit Roll with a bad bitch, never see a casket Rich nigga tactics, run the whole atlas Fuck with a actress, money in the mattress Louis V patches. Leather, no scratches Dough by the batches, parkin' up mad whips Uh Everything sponsored, whole team conquer Make 'em go bonkers, attitude pompous Mission accomplished, paid for the mom crib Hoes under armpits, barely even conscious Sold out concerts, heard when I'm stompin' Brooklyn to Compton. Award show song win Trap card, black card Wait a minute, naw man (Man, what you really wanna be, man?) Neighborhood rapper, voice for the trapped ones God to the black ones, far from the wack ones All the right actions. Money, stacked 'em Then I invest 'em. Little niggas, blessed 'em Government stressed 'em. Police, check 'em Grade A emblem, Most High sent him Bent the tension, top ten mentions Yeah Real for the people, struggle for the evil Best from the East Coast. Play, no cheat codes Lyrically lethal, make 'em need Stro Get a plate, eat slow. Flex less, teach mo' Listeners each row. Look around, see growth All about peace. No beef No heat, no Hollywood shit Everybody live equal (Can you be that tho?) Man I'on know This music shit is like findin' balance on a Ripstick Sometimes I'm on that make a hit tip Other times I put the message in the rhymes, but that don't get dimed Literally Yo you might get a nickel, go triple pickle Niggas minds is fickle, but they the ones you gotta get to You make it then ya people say you let the devil get you If we rich, we switch. But we broke, it's hope Who is the real you, self? Which crowd you tryna appeal to? People from the ghetto, people from the projects Suffering people, street people All the (?) ghetto youth who know what it is to sing about suffering and reality Because they live in this kind of environment Some of them can't afford a radio, so the only ting whey can listen to is the music [Outro] Yo I just wanna be free, you feel me? If I make a little dough please don't kill me If I don't make dough would you still love me? Rockin' the Versace ring 'cause um.....I gotta do, you know That rapper thing Real amends, spit the Gospel in the church with gold gates Hip-Hop sent me Feel like the pastor with the Bentley God favors the poor, but I can't make more? It's for ya soul but it cost ten dollars in stores The revolution will be marketed Pardon him, if he lose message in the music This rap shit get confusin' But if Jay-Z could do it, fuck it