I got money on my mind and I can't talk for free But just like a ventriloquist Pay a bitch a bitch for what she worth and wish Pull that string out my back and I'll start spillin' shit All strings are green Mu'fucka tell you different Just got pockets that's lean Being unfair and hoe-like mean Serial lyricist In all seriousness Bling String "Ventriolist" I can't give a fuck who don't like that Show me a magician or a 3-card Molly mu'fucka And he gets paid for what's under that hat
The difference between them and me is that they selling you lies, fun and guessing shit Leave yo mind, eyes and pockets in a mess and shit You paying for nothing but honey bunches of hunches, fun, hocus pocus shit Pockets thin Scarecrow You Can't Win Bamboozled like Wiz Lose your focus shit
I'm not no entertainer I'm a w r i t e r and a l y r i c i s t My words in a book Or on hit song that's fire and cooks Are really all you need to see from me
Don't press me Stress me And try to play me like I o w e thee I do my shit naturally My presence, just like yours-and my words are Gifts, red-ribbon tight and not tired.
But I'm not gone' sell my self short, I'm the business: for h i r e. I never signed on to be a messiah, a public speaker or some internet liar I brings the pain Verbal Vicodin dire My shit is fire.
Try um Stopping Monica Even on Hanukah Blowing your harmonica Asking her to sing a song for ya Bet she hit you off with some uh: "Just one a dem days" That's about it She gets paid to sing She aint gon' sing no whole fuckin' song to me In her mind-she's like: "Girlfriend-this is my gift.
But I have to make my living with this.
Go get yo' ticket and sit in Row C to get the bridge and the chorus to this"
I'm about business not foolishness so I understand ThangMiss. I'm a wordsmith Rhyming shark These words I loan to thee. Until I'm paid for what I feel I'm worth I'm Promoting
I'm showcasing Premiering and dough-chasin'
You play yourself like a business it a pay yo'self like a business You put ya self out there for play ALL DAY-slick talkin' and serial status postin' Instead of a lyricist or writer Be known as some internet status joke-n Rotiserrie-in-roastin
Play you like bullshit Flushed down like water Missed the toilet and instead Hit the floor and make ya hustle and flow a bit harder Let me rephrase and reframe I won't refrain If I do entertain It's for those who: Patronize me Maximize me Not gaze
And with a fuckin axe to grind with me I'm on some: Intertwine with me Share your philosophy And your mind with me Or Just simply laugh, and have a good time with me Soul to soul Back to life But.... Back to reality:
Looking like Old Dirty Bastard n shit Landlord on the door this month on some uh: "bitch better have my money" shit Looking at me like I'm on some funny shit Some runny shit Some ole Sukyaki Taste of Honey shit I aint tryna be famous I just want the going rate for what I'm worth and shit I worked for 20+ years on some disrespect hourly And salary shit Office gossiping Clock knocking Bullshit-a-rockin' Cowardly shit
I'm no secretary My names not Mary Whitney Houston But name is not Susan I'm filled with a creative flow In every which way to go I'm worth more than some paycheck Every two weeks Barely making it and scary though
I'm a gifted bitch God didn't equip me with a flow so cold not to be on some lifted shit That's why he gifts (some of us) with it
To cultivate it Find yo way around and through this world to multiply and negate it