You aint strapped like saggy boobs
I go to war, old timbs, battered boots
Yeah, and i ain't saying that i'm nas here
Like money, cash, and shit all was real
Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed
Turn money into diamonds and gold
Put them out randomly hopin' that i get some
Fuck the money and public opinion
Hustle for money and making livings
But the battle ain't over till the black man sings
And when theres booze their is boobs
I still got my nike boots
Money come and money go still money problems addin up
Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck
And cash money supermarket like seth,
Carefree i don’t need the stress
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