Mac Miller - My Biography (Gotta Make Money) lyrics
[Mac Miller - My Biography Gotta Make Money lyrics]
This is my biography
It's really somethin' that you gotta read
You all are weak
Words that make me fall asleep (Yo)
Dime nots, please, can you drop the beat?
(Look, look)
Now, everybody, can you clap your hands?
When you hear this out the speakers, be like
"That's the jam"
And ask your mans if he'll please, turn it up
And we can gather round the cypher
While we burn a Dutch
Words rush out my mouth when
It's my turn to bust
Try and challenge the battler
You herbs get crushed
'Cause you'll be smoked right away
Like the herb I puff
Steel City, put your hands up
The 'Burgh is us smokin' purple stuff
Hold it down for the potheads cross the cat
He'll fill your body up with hot lead
I'm not sayin' what's not said before
Takin' words out the book
And I'm makin' metaphors
'Cause, I ('Cause, I)
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it's what they take from
Me why I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it really ain't funny what I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
We all tryna be rich, man
It's all for the cash
Whether you slingin' trees or movin'
8 balls in the bag
Now from this jail cell where
You callin' your dad
Sayin' you droppin' out of class
And you followin' rap
So don't worry 'bout the cops, dad
I hate the feds
I'ma make it, Pops, try not to hang your head
'Cause, I spit so sick that
I should stay in bed
I'ma keep makin' bread 'til I'm layin' dead
I'm collectin' dollars, and
Quarters, and nickels, and dimes
My hat turned upside down while
I'm kickin' a rhyme i'm sittin' reclined
Y'all claim real but you all sound fake
All for the money, fam
All for the pound cake and when I get rich
I won't forget about my family
I'll be spreadin' money all throughout
The whole family tree
The words I speak with herbs
And trees about the currency
I gotta make money 'fore the
Dollar bill murder me
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it's what they take from
Me why I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it really ain't funny what I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
This is my biography
It's really somethin' that you gotta read
You all are weak
Words that make me fall asleep
Dime nots, please, can you drop the beat?
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it's what they take from
Me why I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it really ain't funny what I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
It's really somethin' that you gotta read
You all are weak
Words that make me fall asleep (Yo)
Dime nots, please, can you drop the beat?
(Look, look)
Now, everybody, can you clap your hands?
When you hear this out the speakers, be like
"That's the jam"
And ask your mans if he'll please, turn it up
And we can gather round the cypher
While we burn a Dutch
Words rush out my mouth when
It's my turn to bust
Try and challenge the battler
You herbs get crushed
'Cause you'll be smoked right away
Like the herb I puff
Steel City, put your hands up
The 'Burgh is us smokin' purple stuff
Hold it down for the potheads cross the cat
He'll fill your body up with hot lead
I'm not sayin' what's not said before
Takin' words out the book
And I'm makin' metaphors
'Cause, I ('Cause, I)
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it's what they take from
Me why I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it really ain't funny what I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
We all tryna be rich, man
It's all for the cash
Whether you slingin' trees or movin'
8 balls in the bag
Now from this jail cell where
You callin' your dad
Sayin' you droppin' out of class
And you followin' rap
So don't worry 'bout the cops, dad
I hate the feds
I'ma make it, Pops, try not to hang your head
'Cause, I spit so sick that
I should stay in bed
I'ma keep makin' bread 'til I'm layin' dead
I'm collectin' dollars, and
Quarters, and nickels, and dimes
My hat turned upside down while
I'm kickin' a rhyme i'm sittin' reclined
Y'all claim real but you all sound fake
All for the money, fam
All for the pound cake and when I get rich
I won't forget about my family
I'll be spreadin' money all throughout
The whole family tree
The words I speak with herbs
And trees about the currency
I gotta make money 'fore the
Dollar bill murder me
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it's what they take from
Me why I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it really ain't funny what I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
This is my biography
It's really somethin' that you gotta read
You all are weak
Words that make me fall asleep
Dime nots, please, can you drop the beat?
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it's what they take from
Me why I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you
I gotta, gotta, gotta make money
Even if I gotta, gotta, gotta
Gotta take money
And it really ain't funny what I gotta do
Handle your business before it handle you