Get The $

White-collar, around-the-way, life check-to-check
Muscles in my hustle trying to get it correct
Block-watch cinemas premiere in neglect
The streets reflect the artill' and ill effect
Scatter. Shortage hood diet direct
Seek town Key Food, Associates, and Met
I gather—fuck it—pour the Bacardi select
It’s gon' all be brought back to perspect in a sec
We’re all in the same hood but fake the fret
The U.S. middle-class grants of debt. I know a
Lady, full-time assistant pet vet
Part-time village-voice ho with no regret
My brother five, so impoverishment’s a threat
That low-budget pussy keep them kids well-kept
It’s a hustle. Like I said before, we want more, but the
Poor only war after retrospect. I’m
Forever counting pennies when I recollect. Still
My bank account’s slim, looking kind of suspect
Keeping up with the Joneses, polish my rep
Home to more false embellishment than you’d expect
The poverty-stricken next-door neighbor contempt
That’s so and so for all a lover can get, and so
The tune plays on like these low-class dames. I’m throwing
Chains and a hat to show some respect
It’s a poor man’s world
«Get the money, my nig» — Sample from — «»
«You can’t knock the hustle» — Sample from — «»
«One, two, it don’t stop» — Sample from — «»
«It's a poor man’s world» — Sample from — «»
«Living on a budget» — Sample from — «»
It’s a poor man’s world
«One, two, it don’t stop» — Sample from — «»
It’s the same story: day-to-day, 9-to-5, check-to-check, pocket-to-bill.
I got it filtered out of my income
«Get the money» — Sample from — «»
Monday comes with the blink of a eye, like
I didn’t think my weekend might have to end one day
It can’t be 4:30 in the morning, so I
Start brainstorming for schemes to call in like
«I had a freak fire in my building.» Better yet
«A nauseating feeling with a spinning ceiling,» but those
Excuses are useless like when I read the old
Schedule wrong. No call, no show like «I'm
Supposed to be off,» but I hit ‘em in the head with that
Lastly. I lay back down and hit snooze. If I’m
Late, I’ll just blame it on the train if they ask me
But, soon, I got to show my face. And when I
Clock in, I’m ultra-tight and it’s bad for business
Waking up at daybreak at this payrate
Could lead to a tragic ending (This is)
(The world of lattes, cappuccinos)
(Expressos) Tall, Grande, and Gigante
I’ll scheme leche for lines longer than Medicaid
My boss said, «Try smiling.» I told him, «Try better
Pay. And, every day, some irate customer who
I hate and I think just come in to fuck
With us ‘cause my pay ain’t up to what it
Gotta be to classify me above poverty
Bitch, this ain’t how the poor got rich
This ain’t how you get to sit in Swiss ski lifts.» But
My landlord need rent, so then I bite my tongue
I’m even nice to some while pouring ice in cups
I’m all-ears. They talk about their vacation and
Real estate, SoHo apartment, their car. Know they’re
Feeling great—rightfully so. The convo
Takes me to a different place. I feel the same as a
Slave on a boat off the Ivory Coast, ‘cept
I’m monetary compensated—so they say
For room and board but not enough to save it
Or make moves toward leaving the plantation
Ten years, you’ll be assistant manager—just be patient
But I got a better plan to make my day brighter
And fold a house or turn the table on the slave driver
and Loer Velocity]
: I know ain’t no jobs out here, you know’m saying, but dishwasher and, and,
and, and, and, and, and… What’d you call that shit? Hey, what’d you call
that shit? You take letters and…
Loer Velocity: Messenger
: Messenger! I ain’t find shit else out here, unless you get side-jobs in
construction business
Loer Velocity: For real
: keep selling drugs, man