(feat. EMP, Mac Cris)



[Chorus x2: Cream]



I don't care what people say

I'm gonna get 'em for a paper chase

I don't care what people say

I'm gonna get 'em for a paper chase



[EMP]

Know I got that feeling that the pimp gone make a killin'

Droppin' them bodies off by the dozen I wouldn't mind, makin' a zillion

Cuz there ain't no love, like that love that's on the down low

Always watch your back, for some of them niggas they call your kinfolk

I'd rather be broke, then one of them niggas that's on the board

Every option that I got, got me livin' by the ????

Over here, givin' a toast, to some of the niggas that did they dirt

Nothin' wrong with recognizin' the real, fightin' and puttin' in work

I got some things I need to do, in the pursuit, in my one lifetime

And ain't no more two-stompin' me, only grant for makin' my grind

And I'ma get in, where I fit in my nigga, we both can roll, for the ride

Sleepin' your head, 

and nigga you fall to your knees when it's time to compromise

I'm at the point of no return, only concerned with the fact

Know that I feel with this hustlin' two thousand trick, 

tryin' to hold you back

On the bow, leanin' with one foot ahead and the bow, is bound to break

No more shots, no more pop, 

because he's dead and it's time for the paper chase



[Chorus]



[Mac Cris]

Now smoke a blunt wit'cha boy, commit Cream got that green

Now shoot them toys wit'cha boy, cuz you know we on the scene

And put them things in your face, cuz I'm ready to catch this case

You fuckin' around with me and Cream gone do this shit today

Now get it crunk wit'cha boy, don't front on your boy

And if you thuggin' up in the gates, let me see you get it up

Now hold it down with your nigga, when you smokin' up in the truck

Cuz you claim that you smoke pound, but you might get your shit smoked up

K to the I to the N to the G

G to the A to the T to the E

Smokin' and chokin' on swisher sweets

Keepin' you crunk and in on your feet

In this game ain't nothin' but G's

Fuck that shit you tryin' to plead

One in your head and then you dead and you gone fall to your knees

HEY!!!!!



[Chorus]



[Cream]

Now smoke a blunt wit'cha boy, smoke some fire green with me

Go and get some plastic toys I think somebody tryin' to get me

I can't FRONT on ya boy, cuz every night I'm gettin' that green

Everybody be smokin' a pound, with the Cream on the scene

Don't make me get crunk on ya boy, cuz real niggas they move in silence

I've been known for shootin' them toys in case them suckas wanna get violent

Now what'cha want from your boy?  Cream olde English and some of this weed

Turnin' all of my enemies into manipulatin' fiends

But if you want it, you can get it

If you smoke it, two can hit it

I ain't perpetratin' with it

I'm gone hit it until it's finished

And just like Popeye eat his spinach, I'ma stay crunk off this all day

I don't care what the people say, WEED make my paper straight

So HOLD IT DOWN wit'cha boy, don't hesitate to get 'em up

Go head and smoke up what you smoked up cuz today we gettin' fucked up

We smoke a pound up in my chevy, rollin' round we makin' credits

I ain't messed up bout no change

We havin' thangs and I'ma remain the same

On top of the game, you niggas just can't get crunk up like my crew do

Nigga we smoke weed like Wahoo, I get fucked up cuz I want to

Now who knew? That Cream'll be makin' the money with niggas that get paid?

Sippin' on Dom and I parle' HEY!!!!!

Cream about that paper chase!!!!!



[Chorus x0.5]