Think i’m bout to blow, they call me george from boston
The green backs in my pockets be talkin
Most of america is not middle class or stacking the green,
If i don’t make it, then somebody tell my son screen
Like it's something to see i'm rubbin ya teets, puffin the green
I got a dollar and a dream, real niggas on my team
And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream
The last thing i need is you turning green
Ain't stacking the green, only time there's stashing the cheese,
Well, i’m flyin' over, literally, flyin' over cities
Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks
Left out to dry like a big bag of buds,
Like i'm stuck in a screen and the colour is green
I got a dolla and a dream, real niggas on my team
C.r.e.a.m. was the motto, wanted the lotto and easy green,
And some of the stuff i tried to do they had never seen
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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