Chapter 13
Lyrics
Let's talk about money
Get money
Common Sense want the money
Let's talk about money
I, be, the one they call Peavey
I'm Poe as Edgar Allen
But I'm a poet when I'm freestyling
You got a design master wind Not Never The Less
Fresh like L address yes the LS is here
I appear on piers with my peers
The Imperial like margarine, I'm butter
Yes fly like Bel-Air
Lookin' at my fake Gucci, it's about that time
It's time for some perculator
I circulate around the block
Black to get me a six pack a half of Harrow's chicken
A good combination, when I get bubbly I do it in moderation
One brew, one brew, I said one brew at a time
Well I'm a two timer of women that'll three times a lady
Ms. Haiti say Sade and my Ms. Golper say
"Yo whoop it there it is" call me E cause I equal MC's squared
In the bed marks know I got the key to get the girls
Noses open like the vapors, more pub than the papers
More papers than the press, oh yes I gets paid
Check it I didn't grow up up po po
But once you get grown and out on your own
Bills upon bills upon bills is what you have
Before you get your check than you already spend half
See I make money, money doesn't make me
I'm a reflection of my section and my section eight
Enough, I own eight sections of the world, where I'm sexin' eight girls
Where I have them comin' in (uh) eight seconds
I told Victoria her Secret you suck life a crest
I ultrawhite my secretary, I went to Tibet
To bet on a horse you bet your life
Mine was better and now your deader, than a (door knob) eh wrong
So what's your name?
(I'm the Com that wrote Com Sense, and when I don't got scratch)
(I do feel tense, and if you give your papers to a broad yous a dummy)
'Cause without the money
"Ain't a damn thing funny, ain't a damn thing funny, ain't a damn thing funny"
These rhymes I exchange like stock, I'm live like stock
I rock like Prudential, making ha ha from zero
That's mucho dinero, like Robert De Niro, I rob Berts dinero
A hero like the sandwich, a man which has mills like Stephanie Mills
Dills like pickels, I'm fancy man like tickles like (the french)
Not Johnny but like a Bench I press on like glue
I stand like Lee while you stagger like Lee
Most likely I'll gagger that bullish I pull ish like a magnet
A dragnet, I don't drag I gets net income, yo bums I rush like adrenaline
I'm royal when I flush, your highest hush will get mushed like a sleigh dog
I say dogs who are under me, I over man, call me Doberman
'Cause I'm a pincher of pennies that's pretty
Then you see green from all the money I spend (what you do?)
I stay fresh like mint from mint
I meant my mint, know what I mean? I'm nice
Real friendly like an officer, friendly and a gentleman
Friendly like neighbors, not Jim but like Homer I got how salute, attention salute
I kill loot but won't dilute, even if I threw garbage on the ground
I couldn't pollute, man, I'm too rich for that, bitch
So what's your name?
I'm Ynot, I own a mansion and a yacht
I got essentials and credentials and honeys at my feet
And when I walk the street, I'm never lookin' bummy
'Cause without the money
"Ain't a damn thing funny, ain't a damn thing funny
Ain't a damn thing funny, ain't a damn thing funny, ain't a damn thing funny"
Ynot, let me tell ya a story
Okay it was a black man a white man and a Chinese man
The black man of course he was po' (yeah)
The white man, he was rich (uh-huh)
And the Chinese man, he owned a sto' (aight come on)
Okay the black man lived on Beat Street
The white man lived on Wall Street
And at the Chinese man's store is where they all meet
Not really on the good foot
'Cause the white man kept steppin' on the black man's toes (damn!)
And in his shoes there were holes
But the white man didn't care, shit
He didn't have to wear it (uh-uh)
The scratch that he had, he got from his parents
With his tight ass, he woulda been poor white trash, but anyway
Everyday the black man would ask him to spare change
But at him, the white man would stare strange
So the black man got fed up
'Cause wasn't nobody feedin' him and feedin' him
And took red by his neck and started beatin' him and beatin' him
The Chinese man got 'noid and broke out like a peon
And now the black man own the store
And the name of it is Leon's
(What's that?)
Barbecue, that is! (oh)
Rib tips, hot sauce, mild sauce, fries, and chicken
So what's your name?
I'm Ynot, I own a mansion and a yacht
I got essentials and credentials and honeys at my feet
And when I walk the street, I'm never lookin' bummy
'Cause without the money
"Ain't a damn thing funny"
Now what's your name?
Well I'm the Com, the broke Com Sense
And when I don't got scratch, I do feel tense
And if you givin' your papers to a broad you'se a dummy
'Cause without no money
"Ain't a damn thing funny"
Two thousand and thirteen shot
Common Sense and Ynot
Uac and Darian combined
We rock while you rot, no stress
Writer(s): Anthony Khan, Lonnie Lynn
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, The Administration MP, Inc., THE ADMINISTRATION MP INC, Downtown Music Publishing
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
The Meaning of Chapter 13
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