(feat. Rbl)



[Hook x3]

Tryin' to make a dollar out of fifteen cents

How come when I was down you wasn't brown nosin'



[Master P]

See it's a fucked up life that I'm livin' in

I slang cola cause I didn't have no dividends

My baby mama stressin' she don't wanna slang dope

The ghetto's tryin' to kill me which way should I go

Now I'm on the corner takin' penitentiary chances

Even though there's marks on my turf that can't stand me

I think to myself, when should I leave

Too say fuck em' nigga till ya hit my weed

I guess I'm a G about my scrilla cause they bashin'

Crews know that P is quick to put em' in that casket

The game got me streesin' but the game gon' stress out

Even though the task just raid a nigga's house

Took a loss in the game tryin' to bubble up

Find the P deep in the grind slangin' dope fiends double ups

And pretty soon I'll be back to a whole thing

If I had to do it again I'd probably do the same thing



[Hook x3]



[RBL]

Man it ain't nothin' but a thang to let ya nuts hang

Cause in this game a million niggas tried to fuck the same thang

I know it be like on, on my block

Niggas must be on the cell while another's on the short stop

It won't stop and it won't quit

Tell me another quick way for a nigga to check a grip, shit

I'm kind of in a rush, it's kind of like a must

To get some, in God we trust

Bein' broke sure ain't no joke

I barely got enough money to buy me a whole loaf

Niggas be spendin' money like records

So I move from Mike Chester to Girbaud pocket

Cause a lesson is a nigga will shoot

No playin' hoops, he ain't gon' never see no signs or no quick loot

Dank costs ten and the drey costs five

So I gots have more in my pocket than a nickel and a dime, bitch



[Hook x3]



[Master P]

Gold fronts in my mouth, hella dope and got my bags tight

Bitches on my dick cause they know the P rags are tight

But I ain't trippin' off no hoochies with no lil' skirt

I'd rather deal with them turks, puttin' in work

They caught up in some dirt

Cause I'm the Ice Cream Man droppin' off hella loads

Vanilla, stawberry, cherry bitch I even got Rocky Road

Take yo pick, I know you dope fiends wanna lick

But that's gon' cost you twenty bones in case you wanna hit

I love you, you love me

But this ice cream don't go for free

It's a ten, twenty, fifty, hundred dollar sack or cone

And if you ain't spendin' bring yo broke ass on

Golds on my vehicle, fools they can't see me though

Tens for twenty, that's plenty meet me at the liquor store

Fiends want credit but cha' know I can't fade ya

When you get cha' cash together call me on my pager

I'm stressin' off the game, I barely gets sleep

I just had to bail my lil' partner last week

In and out of aves gettin' chased by the 5-0

Gettin' my hustle on, a way of survival

And if I get caught I got play

But I ain't goin' out without two stones to the head



[Hook to end]