Blueprint - Dead Presidents lyrics
[Blueprint - Dead Presidents lyrics]
Uh, huh gon' have a lil' bit of fun today
Rap to some, shit just layin around
Don't take me too serious y'knahmsayin?
I'm "Illmatic" when it comes
To countin my dough
1's and 5's go to wifey son
You know how that go
I'm probably posted in a hotel after a show
Countin show and merch' money
Rubber band on my rolls
I think I was 13 or 14
When my parents had to have
A little talk with me
They told me money don't grow on trees
And ever since then I've been on my P's
Up and out the house into the morning air
Needed a 9 to 5 job and I didn't care where
Then finally found two at the Ohio State Fair
Just to spend all the money
That I made on gear
Fast forward to the present now rap's my job
But, I'm still goin after it hard
Because I know the ride could end
Just as fast as it starts
And I'll be right back on
The block with "Dead Presidents"
Uh, huh huh you need to stop rappin
If you ain't seein no perks
No fanbase, no cream, no skirts
I study bad music like it was my homework
I learn the most from whack
Gimmicks that don't work
It's true, you could learn a lot from a dummy
I learned how to make money
And hold it tight
So nobody on God's green earth
Can take it from me
And when they try I make it ugly, feel that
See I'm inspired by real rap
Those that tried hard to
Chart and still failed
Those told the earth was
Flat and still sailed
They went against all odds and did well
Every wish that accompanies a penny in a well
Is the dream of a criminal, sittin in a jail
Livin in hell, head spinnin in a cell
About to break but held together
By fam sendin him mail
With "Dead Presidents"
Echoes and fades, beat plays to end
Rap to some, shit just layin around
Don't take me too serious y'knahmsayin?
I'm "Illmatic" when it comes
To countin my dough
1's and 5's go to wifey son
You know how that go
I'm probably posted in a hotel after a show
Countin show and merch' money
Rubber band on my rolls
I think I was 13 or 14
When my parents had to have
A little talk with me
They told me money don't grow on trees
And ever since then I've been on my P's
Up and out the house into the morning air
Needed a 9 to 5 job and I didn't care where
Then finally found two at the Ohio State Fair
Just to spend all the money
That I made on gear
Fast forward to the present now rap's my job
But, I'm still goin after it hard
Because I know the ride could end
Just as fast as it starts
And I'll be right back on
The block with "Dead Presidents"
Uh, huh huh you need to stop rappin
If you ain't seein no perks
No fanbase, no cream, no skirts
I study bad music like it was my homework
I learn the most from whack
Gimmicks that don't work
It's true, you could learn a lot from a dummy
I learned how to make money
And hold it tight
So nobody on God's green earth
Can take it from me
And when they try I make it ugly, feel that
See I'm inspired by real rap
Those that tried hard to
Chart and still failed
Those told the earth was
Flat and still sailed
They went against all odds and did well
Every wish that accompanies a penny in a well
Is the dream of a criminal, sittin in a jail
Livin in hell, head spinnin in a cell
About to break but held together
By fam sendin him mail
With "Dead Presidents"
Echoes and fades, beat plays to end