They call me dub, cooter was the last name Money in my lap, doin' a buck in the fast lane
The passion of a hustler, I got it And if it ain't about money, I don't wanna talk about it
The passion of a hustler, I got it And if it ain't about money, I don't wanna talk about it
Now let me see your fingers in the sky And if you like money, keep them up high
Stand up, put your hands up, show me what you all about
Real shit, nigga, yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Gettin' it in out of the concrete roots In the coupe behind ten, blowin' like a flute
Fresh off of lockdown, straight out the chute Nigga down for whatever, still all about the loot
The property of poverty, no looters or youth Now it's denim on the leather while we're movin' the roof
The hog on the hog with the D's on the deuce And you can blame it on the alcohol, the weed, and the juice
Look, load up my weapon, restart it, cap to the left of me You know what I'm reppin', see, dub, that's to the death of me
Motherfuckers wasn't expectin' me, but I'm all up in your chest, sweetie
Givin' you sign -line biddin', niggas, vasectomies Till I rest in peace, hustle aggressively
Your niggas a bitch, baby, you need to sit next to me
Dub, pooter, the bandana dangler On T, count the dirty money with the hanky up
Now let me see your fingers in the sky And if you like money, keep them up high
Stand up, put your hands up, show me what you all about
Real shit, nigga, yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Now let me see your fingers in the sky And if you like money, keep them up high
Stand up, put your hands up, show me what you all about
Real shit, nigga, yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Dub got shanked, they cut us off, dude Comin' again, please give me somethin' to want to
I can't leave, see, for all of my niggas who don't wear tight jeans
Up they ass, tease me, went in the field, their last CD
Still sold a shit load of records, no radio or TV
And I'm stickin' to the program, Chuck's on the concrete
While the Cadillac door slams, the W was my star symbol
My jams make niggas get down like barrels out of car windows
I'm a nut for cheese and Chuck T's Addicted to big butt cheeks and weaves
Not a pop artist, but a pop digg -eezy I branch off the same tree as Pac and Neezy
Pump a jam out the Jag and Biggie Iron on the stove, shakin' up the starch
Can't spray in my dickies
Now let me see your fingers in the sky And if you like money, keep em up high
Stand up, but your cans up, show me what you all about
Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Now let me see your fingers in the sky
And if you like money, keep em up high
Stand up, but your cans up, show me what you all about
Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Now who that nigga put to shoot it Chap with the truest
Posted to the streets to do wit' me
D Fisher and this rap shit
I'm a vet in a blue 4 -5, tied around the knees, Zach
Your future baby daddy, I might be
You ain't never been with a nigga like me
Baby slimey, you never, I'll call you later this weekend
I can't talk now, I'm on my way to rob the weed man
Love by a few, catered by majority
I'm the reason these rappers keep security
I go hard, keep gears and jump cars
Chuckin' up the good, three wheelin' in your front yard
You niggas is temporary, Facebook gangsters
I put faces on obituaries, nigga
Dub Gouda, the bandana dangler
O .T. countin' dirty money with the hanky up
Now let me see your fingers in the sky
And if you like money, keep them up high
Stand up, put your cans up, show me what you all about
Real shit, nigga
Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Now let me see your fingers in the sky
And if you like money, keep them up high
Stand up, put your cans up, show me what you all about
Real shit, nigga
Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
Ta -ta -talkin' bout, ta -talkin' bout
Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout
9 -1 -1, it's a barracuda on the loose
Off the good and the juice
The passion of a hustler, I got it
And if it ain't about money, I don't wanna talk about it
