If I had a dime for every rhymer that bust guns, I'd have a cool mill' for my sons in trust funds.

Music business hate me ‘cause the industry ain't make me
Hustlers and boosters embrace me and the music I be making
I dumbed down for my audience to double my dollars
They criticized me for it, yet they all yell "holla"
If skills sold, truth be told, I'd probably be lyrically Talib Kweli
Truthfully I wanna rhyme like Common Sense
But I did 5 mill' – I ain't been rhyming like Common since
When your cents got that much in common
And you been hustling since your inception
Fuck perception! Go with what makes sense
Since I know what I'm up against
We as rappers must decide what's most important
And I can't help the poor if I'm one of them
So I got rich and gave back, to me that's the win/win
So next time you see the homie and his rims spin
Just know my mind is working just like them (rims, that is)

If I can't a man with a million dollars, I'll a million men with one dollar.

If only I had a thousand rifles of the same calibre!

Stick 'em up chump, you know what this is
do the right thing you might live to see your kids
all he said was 'c'mon don't shoot!'
so shook I think he shit his sean jean suit
'why you starin?' run your chain like an errand
and your girls earrings, and what you wearin'
survival tactics for when things get too gritty
he feels it's his duty to the people of the city
just so long as nobody get hurt
it keep your average citizen on point and alert"
'ok miss, come up off that bracelet
just got your hair did don't make me waste it'
so, go to hades get the devil for his stash
but no old ladies unless you're sure they carry mad cash
like the one from the liquor store
he watched her for weeks now, ready for the quick score
before he told her whore get on the floor
she pulled out and let off like quick draw mcgraw
damn yo, he lucky, she barely nicked the camo
he would've let her have it, if he had the ammo
it's all in good fun, true, moral of the story, son duke:
senior citizens'll bust their guns too

Grand pappy told my pappy back in my day son
A man had to answer for the wicked that he'd done
Take all the rope in Texas, find a tall oak tree
Round up all of them bad boys, hang them high in the street
For all the people to see<p>That justice is the one thing you should always find
You got to saddle up your boys, you got to draw a hard line
When the gun smoke settles, we'll sing a victory tune
And we'll all meet back at the local saloon.
We'll raise up our glasses against Evil forces singing
Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.

Some rhyme a neebor’s name to lash;
Some rhyme, (vain thought!) for needfu’ cash;
Some rhyme to court the countra clash,
An’ raise a din;
For me, an aim I never fash;
I rhyme for fun.

Son of a son, son of a son, son of a son of a sailor.
Son of a gun; load the last ton,
One step ahead of the jailer.

I give a goddamn if I never sell anotha milla
I'll take my ass right back to silla hilla billa
Compounds, come down, every day sell yay
Just like the old days stack anotha mill up

Paying good coin to bad men.

Always said if I rapped, I'd say somethin' significant But now I'm rapping 'bout money, hoes, and rims again.

So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store.

If we can find the money to kill people, we can find the money to help people.

A piece of mine's
That's what the white man wanted when I rhyme
Telling me that he selling me just for $10.99
If I go platinum from rapping, I do the company fine
What if I compromise? He said, it don't even matter
You make a million or more, you living better than average
You losing your core following, gaining it all
He put a price on my talent, I hit the bank and withdraw
Hit the bank and withdraw, hit the bank and withdraw
Put myself in the rocket ship and I shot for the stars
Look at what you accomplishing, what he said to the boy
I'ma make you some promises that you just can't ignore
Your profession anonymous as an artist if I don't target your market
If you ain't signing your signature when I throw you my wallet
A lot of rappers are giving their demo all in the toilet
Your world tour, your master's, mortgage, I need a piece