Dead Presidents III lyrics

by

A Tribe Called Quest


[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 b*tch, 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, Colt45 on your breath
f*ck what Ab say, I told Carlito it's that way
Blow dinero, torpedo through your national bank and
Pay attention, n*ggas

[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 n*ggas
Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny
Get, get money my b*tches
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 n*ggas
Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny
Get, get money my b*tches
Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny
[Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar & Ab-Soul]
Finna diminish any n*gga tryna get involved
The f*ck 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 n*ggas
Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny
Get, get money my b*tches
Get money, being broke is a joke, homie it ain't funny
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net