Pain & Strife
Lyrics
Oh, yeah, yeah
You think you could hang with me
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah-yeah
Gotta make that, gotta make that
Gotta make that, gotta make that
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now, yeah, yeah-yeah)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now, yeah, yeah)
Gotta get down for my thang, I push the button, I'm lane switchin'
Say she wanna look up for some dinner and drinks
But I don't trick off on them lame bitches
If you hurt 'bout that ho then I can't be your thang
Just know that we be fuckin' the same bitches
Most these niggas I know do this shit for the fame
These niggas be rappin', I'm gang spittin'
Said, "These niggas be rappin', I'm gang spittin'"
Gang bangin' (yeah), I put the 'caine in your Chevrolet
Smokin' on silly Bobby, sittin' sideways
Swivel seat and the center tray
I remember them nights sleepin' on these bitches couches
I might fuck but I never stay
I was drankin' and gettin' blunted on an empty stomach
I was blowin' my life away
Now I come through drop-top, fast, and don't play
Pop and cop the stash and get paid
Do the math just like a laundromat
Now I be washin' all this cash that I made (skrrt)
Drop-top, fast, and don't play
Pop and drop the stash and get paid (skrrt)
Do the math just like a laundromat
Now I be washin' all this cash that I made
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now, yeah, yeah-yeah)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now, yeah, yeah)
I get money, gotta get paid
Came from the bottom, made it out the trenches
Then I made it out the maze
Bought the Lamborghini, coulda bought the Bentley
'Cause I had a better taste (skrrt)
'Member I was takin' losses 'fore I was a boss
The memories never fade (loss)
Gave mama a hunnid racks and changed up her location (racks)
Uh, I put diamonds on my wrist, singin', Fantasia
I pull up to my hood in a coupe to motivate 'em (motivate 'em)
Finally bossed up, bought myself up off the label (boss)
I can't have no conversation if it ain't opaque (no)
Mansion twenty thousand square feet with seven acres (mansion)
I keep cool but I would cook my opp up like a baker (cool)
I keep blues inside my Goyard just in case, for safety (blues)
Maybach, Richard lazy
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Gotta make that money, man (that money, man, it's still the same now)
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah-yeah
Yeah
Yeah, yeah-yeah
Gotta make that, gotta make that
Writer(s): Freddie Gibbs, Kiari Kendrell Cephus
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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