(feat. Kendu, Melquan)



[Verse 1: Kendu]

I caught you peekin around the corner

Tryin to see if we left yet

We staked out your shit last night

Feeling the vibe for death

To make you strangle on you blood fluid.

You know it

Sleep walking with the machete saying

Them dogs made you do it, true it

Mr. Machete telling you bitches I'm ready

Never nervous behind the barrel

Trigger finger stay steady

So buckle up

It's the only way to survive the ride

Down to the Y we havin a party inside

I dedicated this to all you insects

Who deep on buggin me

Pushing my panic button, needin trauma

Unit recovery

My tracks be fat got them attracting like crack

Even P.E. be screaming you bring that beat back

Come one come all my shit be smoking like echo sauna

The underground went with digital

Humpin around if you wanna go

Toe to toe or pussy to dick

Head chicken heads practice on carrot

Sticks

Or let you doo doo hole spread eww

Y'all niggers chill cause we went there too

We change this shit from the ruffside

To the shithole crew

And we're paid



[Chorus x4]



[B.I.G.:] (Goodness gracious)

Gettin' money

[B.I.G.:] (Tha papers)

Gettin' money

[B.I.G.:] (Get paid)



[Verse 2: Melquan]

Spinach flips my lips

Sit on top of crystal bottle tips

Sippin ready to flip do a hit

On a rapper that a serpent

Counterfeit criminal fakin jacks

Luxury in his raps ain't facts

If a camouflage large niggas

Keep it on the low black

No raps or Kodak just stacking cheese

Freezers packed

Murdered human bodies executed vicious

Reputed business German lugers

Lift spitting & twist just

Flesh confronted nobody want it son

I come correct

Connect vocabulary that burry your rep, yep

Son slaughter rip shit

On tracks that I eclipse with

Flowin showing I'm wicked

Lyrics murderin myths with

No remorse a different flow continuous

Blends with no resemblance

Money & power till it's vengeance



[Chorus x4]



[B.I.G.:] (Goodness gracious)

Gettin' money

[B.I.G.:] (Tha papers)

Gettin' money

[B.I.G.:] (Get paid)



[Verse 3: Chuck D]

One of the seven they couldn't hang

Stepped to the six

The last brother alive

Of the startin five-one of the ones

But you look don't acknowledge

The mix with a quickness

Suckers fall and crumble

To the sickness (sickness)

Of not baggin themselves

Not braggin helps

Your lil ass go figure

Why ya pants be saggin

Stare at my audacity

I ain't from the city (strong ile)

No pitty no tears

Cause I ain't from around here

Freestyle what's the use

Record companies get the money

And give you juice, and end up cutting your ass loose (cut off)

While you style for free

They talk wild for a fee

And getcha ass souped

While you never ever recoup

Catchin wreck wit no check

They'll never give ya respect

Ya blackself (my brother)

Getcha self some real yelp (yeah)

Accountant, sharp businessman

Who'll sit down & show ya

Instead a some rich bitch lawyer

Who swear that he know ya-he don't

Know ya as long as

Other folk in rap

Got it made

Fuck freestyle

I wanna stay paid (paid)



[Chorus: x7]



[B.I.G.:] (Goodness gracious)

Gettin' money

[B.I.G.:] (Tha papers)

Gettin' money

[B.I.G.:] (Get paid)