Rapping 4 Money (feat. WHY? And cLOUDDEAD) Lyrics & Tabs by Themselves
Rapping 4 Money (feat. WHY? And cLOUDDEAD)
guitar chords lyrics
This is for those young male lyrical perps
Who want to enter the squared circle with an old pale urkle
Working birkenstocks with socks kid
But still pulling all the lurking working girls nad hot chicks
Gold watch on your wrist, all pissed
Watching me fold any chance you might of had at a tryst
Like what's this? Hey kids, this song's not for profits
Like all but locust honey, long walking and God is
Or it is and that's funny, to be rapping for money
So which is or which isn't it?
If it ain't dick to make I'll rock my fake batch of syphilis
Which is strictly for pity
But boy it ain't pretty, the faux rash on my breast plate
I'd ask if this pay but upper class and rich say
Broach no cash on a mix-tape
But boy it ain't pretty, the faux rash on my breast plate
I'd ask if this pay but upper class and rich say
Broach no cash on a mix-tape
It's gauche and that shows distaste
My good tongue displaced and replaced by a hood one
Like men and mice is in these times of economic crisis
I ain't rappin' for money
Locusts, God and honey
I ain't rappin' for money
Locusts, God and honey
This is for them young male lyrical perps
Who volley aimless and anxious tween unwell women and works
With a less than rent to they merc
And an ant on they shirt
Ain't nothin perf, cept for death vertex and pre-Cambrian earth
But that depends (why wouldn't it?) on the caliber of your friends
And whether you garden lightly in the feeding of men
Where kids had did sing songs not for profits
Like all bu locust, honey long walking and god is
Or it is and that's funny-
Like rapping for money
So which is or which isn't it?
You flashing flint for a tongue, hair a choir of wicks that's lit
Or just like your sedatives sung and a derivative hip
Shit, I prefer my bezels a bundle of dysfunction and thunder
Their poems bones a certain something to cover
Ain't a more significant others
With which I'd rather fail a mother
As each our own proverbial suns, our good tongues
Replaced by hood ones, and then spun
Where mics is hung in these times of crisis...
I ain't rappin for God
I ain't rappin for pity
I ain't rappin for profits
I ain't rappin for chicks
I ain't rappin for others
I ain't rappin for money
I ain't rappin for money
