$999,999 + $1= A Mealticket

Lyrics

Huh? Want me to speak the real?
 Speak the real man
 Nigga, speak the real
 Speak the real
 Speak the real
 Speak the real
 Speak the real
 It's a quarter after nine on my AM, FM
 Radio Shack, digital motel, six o' clock alarm reads
 "40, get your ass up, time to hit the grind
 You can't afford to pass no money, I know you heard about that"
 What, what? "Task raided Millersville, Ms. Miller had a heart attack"
 Dude, that's some cold shit, ain't it huh?
 I know, she was a good person for certain I know
 V-Town, California, where I was born, raised and grown
 And since 1979, I been a hustler on the go
 You know the drill, my mission for real, a mealticket
 You feel, we slowly but surely approachin' seven digits
 Figurines, sticky doo hicky and Angel Dust
 Mescaline, niggas know better than fuck with us
 I'm pimped out flossin' in Reno in the casino
 Big bid, fuckin' off feddie, I could've put down on a crib
 I does that, I do, rejuvenate, redeem
 Take a lose, take a lose don't make a scene
 Nigga charge it to the triple beam, fuck the stress
 I let that orange box of baking soda do the rest
 Holler at my neighborhood chef, Raul
 Known for cloning chickens and turning one into two
 That's what he do for a living, that's all he's used to
 Playtex rubber dish washing gloves and residue, biotch
 Bullshit ain't nothin'
 You see we gone keep this thuggin'
 And mean muggin', jump until it's a done deal
 You see E-40 and Sick Wid, it bring the real, nothin' but
 What if I bring this back down?
 Which one, which one cap'n?
 You got to be about it or be without it
 Be about it or without it, ay, you know what?
 I smell you on that playboy, look
 We fin to run down a whole tac on these bitch ass, niggaz
 Niggas ain't smellin' this shit, we do this shit
 Last night I slapped a bitch upside her dome with my faulty phone
 That Heifer's tired she tried to slash my tire
 Caught me in the bed with her cousin Tanji
 From the track she use to hold my sack
 I use to dick her down
 Way back in eighty-six she use to look just like a sketch
 But now that bitch got a ass, tits, body and boy, that bitch is bad
 For what it's worth, the pussy smelled like Certs
 Victoria's Secret
 Now folks, just remember, I never said I thought about lickin' pussy
 I said I never thought about eatin' it
 Keepin' it and treatin' it nice
 Fuck that, I'm a hog
 I put it down, I'm from the hood
 Where I live on the outskirts of town on the tuck in the cut
 In some empty apartments, man
 I'm a baller so you know I ain't got shit in my name
 I'm strictly ghetto celebrity, niggaz get buried
 Ready for combat if you plottin' and plannin'
 Oh if you come for me and confiscate my dough
 Let the buzzer be the bail
 But my suggestion is to stay within your envelope
 I'm block to block, swingin' on vines
 Community service, put up stop signs
 Uhh, hold the fuck on
 
 Did you or did you not tell these niggaz to stay within they envelope?
 Shit, these toddlers is green to the game
 They ain't know nothin' about these tramps
 Six bedroom flats and gettin' dealt
 And held a hand across the mat
 You see we from the Yay, where we control they minds
 And put these hoes on the grind
 Ain't got to but I still touch it
 Went to 7-Eleven, picked up a traders book
 And bought a bucket
 Use to have a perm taller than the Charlotte Hornets
 But I had to cut that bitch off 'cause see your partna had warrant
 That I ain't even handled yet, although I'm havin' cake
 The little homie from the hood, want me to put out his tape
 He kinda tight too, remind me of The Click crew
 'Cause they was spittin' that old high powered
 Godzilla ballin' guru, ass type shit you can relate to
 Wake to, 'scape to when it's sunny
 Ride by, slide by, get at a honey
 I know these streets like I know my dick
 I can tell you who the nigga is that's about to get jacked
 And the nigga that pulled the lick
 I got this bitch on lock
 999, 999 plus a dollar in a safe deposit box
 Marijuana crops still in this roster
 Kilogram, coca leaf and morphine
 What about my niggas in the 415?
 Look what they made
 My niggaz in the city
 They call it made
 Top grade regeneration, uncut
 Designer weed, straight hempilation, what the fuck?
 Sheit, sheit, sheit sheit, sheit sheit, sheit
 
 999, 999 plus a dollar, plus a dollar man
 Plus a dollar, plus a dollar, man, equals a mealticket bitch
 Biotch, sheit, sheit, fuck it
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:33
Key
6
Tempo
91 BPM

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