Jay Rock, Ab-Soul, Glasses Malone - Dollars Make Sense lyrics

Twisted off the herb
Kush got me lifted like some
Hands up in church
26 inches, sittin' off the curb
Big money make a killin' when I
Kill 'em with my verbs
But haters wanna talk
Tryin' to work my nerves
Pay 'em no mind I just
Hit 'em where it hurts
The gutter's in my blood
Know i came from the dirt
Step up in the place
Not a stain on his shirt
Don't try to jack, or things'll get worse
You don't really wanna see
This mac 10 emerge
Might be at a bar, drinkin' like a fish
Baby wanna swallow so I might grant her wish
Down, spent a lot of dollars on this fit
Struttin' like a pimp
See the guccis on his kicks
I know the niggas jealous of a kid
That's why I keep them uzis
In the whip don't trip
Don't make a mothafucker pull the tool out
Or everybody's laid out like a luau
Don't make a nigga make the news now
You fly lookin' for somethin' to shoot down
You niggas think I'm insane (insane)
You think I lost my brain (my brain)

And I could give a fuck about your whit's
Imma tell you like this
Only dollars make sense

You niggas better recognize
I can hop out and spray like a sector side
A hundred rounds'll have your
Whole hood petrified
Pull up, push on niggas for the exercise
It's a chain
Why you worried 'bout your necklace size?
Niggas 'round the corner waitin'
Just to snatch it hit you with the ratchets
They do it for the practice
Know a ten year old that'll come
And bring you the casket it's live or die
Drinkin' liquor 'till my liver fries
Imma G, you can see through any given eye
On any given Sunday, a nigga sinnin' heavy
In the city with the water
Never broke a levy
You mothafuckers ain't ready
I'm hot like the Serengeti, so deadly
Still jealous of a kid
That's why I keep them uzis
In the whip don't trip


I'm 'bout fed up with this rap shit
And Rock the only dude I wanna rap with
Rest of y'all, shit
A nigga wanna scrap with
You bitches lights, camera
Action like an actress
Fact is, I'm just tired of directing
Now, when I yell shoot
There's bullets flyin' your direction
Ground covered in blood stains and mac shells
Then I ride off in the
Cut ti bumpin' mac swells
It's Watts where prop look is rat tail
Shit, the only thing up is the crack sales
So I invest, stocks in the streets
Let the fans worry 'bout 'em
Beach cruisin' get release
You see this water
And this white is my relief imma pump, pump
Pump 'till my heart cease to beat
I know y'all jealous of a crip
That's why I keep them uzis in the six
Don't trip bitch