[Verse 1: Jamal]
(Let me show you my Diana Ross right now.)
I do know what
They want from me
Oh, the less money I come across
The more problems I see
b**h, I'm broke. That's all I gotta say
Can't see me in my room, laundry piled in the way
Like Quan, it make me feel some type of way
When I only have a couple f**ing dollars to my name
Fuel the flame, I got other sh** on top of that
Transfer the fire to my a** so I run fast
During track, that is. Hurting my back that is
Make me wanna hunchback while I'm practicin'
But this ain't Notre Dame, nor is it a fantasy
Mama calls and says to think about the man you'll be
"You just shoot the sh**!" Least I'm not with it, ma
"Well if you clothes smell like it, you'll get a whooping, son!"
You got money for belts, how come you ain't helping me?
"If it rains you still get wet with an umbrella, you see
There's a drought, but don't be your own enemy
Understand yourself and know your tendencies."
Well I rap now! Cop that mixtape!
"Don't forget school son, whatever it takes!"
Ma all there is to here is the sh** up on my plate!
When it comes to money, I'm short just like Nate
I don't know what they want from me
I know that it's not singing cause that verse was real off-key
Oh, I can't afford singing lessons for me
Oh, the less money I come across, the more problems I see
[Verse 2: Sam Slamwich]
I'm living in a two-man room
Casting for the money like a fisherman's tool
I'm nothing but a beggar in addition to fool
My edition of proof that I'm a vision of youth
My clothes came from a troupe of indigenous groups
Of individual outsiders that's living on stoops
A chicken of coops
I envision a world where I am nothing but money made out of
Nothing but truth, always cerulean blue
"Think of the kids," they said
"Open a biz," they said
I don't have money for an opening bid
No time to close with my lids, I need to focus my sh**
Into developing dough so I can pay for my trip
I don't wanna bank on a plastic plastic
"Credit or cash?" is the question to ask to someone
Much less frugal than I am
My Rugel inside, damn, be yelling my name like
"Why Sam?"
Rope in the sound of this erroneous clown
Who's telling me to be dumbed down so I can be payed for
I need to be prayed for! My college is eating me and my fundings away
I need some money today
[Verse 3: Kid One]
I'm always broke as hell, no honies, my look has failed
Can't afford new clothes. Got bars to fill a jail
Only thing is new flows; struggling with this bill, though
Cold side o the pillow, move fast, I feel slow
No marketable sk**s, though
I work way too hard not to play my cards
Got two jobs in the works
I'm at worn-out shirts
Gotta make my grade. Lead to being fed and paid
My work ethic be poetic, never see me with po' ethics
Opportunities, I catch it. No use being pathetic
When you work in retail, let me give you the detail
Out here pushing shoes like Pusha T pushing bars
Gotta prove I'm making moves, I ain't even push a car
Inability to creep up, deadlines on the creep up
Can't afford to slip up, paychecks get ripped up
I can't afford the time; I can't afford a rhyme
Pushing through the grind
But I ain't even stressed, no time to catch a breath
When I die I can rest
Life is great. Gotta go
Work's at eight. Off at fo'