C.R.E.A.M.

[Intro: Kendrick Lamar] It's all about this money, kid It's all about this money, C.R.E.A.M Y'na'mean? I gotta get it, son I gotta get it, my pocket's hurt again (Cash rules everything around me C.R.E.A.M., get the money) Starvin' out here, yo (Dolla dolla bill, y'all) [Verse 1: Jay Rock] I grew up on the crime side The LA Times side Wrong turn might mean homicide Used to move with the Rupers Talk shit, we'll shoot ya At your dice game, rob ya for your moolah It's like that, cash rules everything Fiends strung out, so they try to sell you anything Listen, son – never sell crack for fun I was hungry, a nigga sold crack for funds Had to get my weight up Enemies, sprayed up Got rid of the whole brick, and then we re-up Sittin' in a money spot, cookin' up the product You tried to infiltrate the shop, you got shot up Lil kids in the projects, they wanna be us No father figures, nothin' that you could teach us Ghetto streets-raised, is blowin' weed and Black & Milds Gangbangin', 'caine-slangin', for deaths and miles Livin' wild Young, black, and don't give a fuck Just a young hustler, specializing in getting bucks Nigga, some garden is where we get our hustle at Ain't shit to say, even one time, we bussin' that There's no discrimination, you will get assassinated for the paper Shoot first and ask questions later See ya later, alligator As your casket drop Then we back to the block And we steady sayin' [Interlude: Kendrick Lamar] (Cash rules everything around me) Yo, straight up, son (C.R.E.A.M., get the money) That's what it's about (Dolla dolla bill, y'all) It's all about this cream, y'all (Cash rules everything around me) Cash rules everything around me (C.R.E.A.M., get the money) Y'na'mean? (Dolla dolla bill, y'all) [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar] Snotty-nosed kid with dreams of getting C.R.E.A.M Like cake batter, by any means, son We make your face splatter, word life I never understood the broke type Thinkin' back then, when I hustled my first stolen bike I used to gamble with silver dollars Now I gamble with Benjamin Franklins, Dom Pérignon, and lobster Money-making for real, kid I'm tryin' stay Fresh like Will did Back in the '90s Killer bees behind me Swarming anything that enter the perimeter Of this money-making machine When winter come It goes down We balls out And you? You just out of bounds Without a doubt We move in unison You move like a Honda with the brakes gone out Out of control You just might, powder your nose If you step on the mic after me, drug residue Every time I leave the booth You fall far behind, a time machine can't save you Me? I'm ahead of the pack Like a high-speed pursuit We kick flows Then re-kick 'em like kung fu I'm Bruce Lee Whether Nikes or Timb boots Beefcake the poppy, see? We ain't scared to shoot Carry three pieces on me Like a Steve Harvey suit I'm on my Method Man shit The 3 west coast Wu-Tang members now exist [Verse 3: Ab-Soul] For the C.R.E.A.M., I beam to retrieve it Believe it I ain't only sowin', I reapin' Benefits up the asshole Is that so? Damn straight Fabricated transaction by a handshake I win by a landslide Scopin' your landscape Kick in the damn door Give me your damn safe They all say crime don't pay But if it'll get me more than what this 9-to-5 gon' pay Rock, let me borrow the K Hit my adversaries I'd rather it be a bullet than my vocabulary Currently stash currency in the shoebox For emergency purposes only So I'm never worthless Bubblin' like a bottom of my way Way, stacks so fat Benjamins growin' a double chin Raised the quota for quotas Hunnid dollar knot holders Livin' that dream Gettin' that C.R.E.A.M It take 36 Chambers That's 18 double-barrel shotties aimed at everybody in the way No gettin' between this Just a genius Inspect your deck No money involved? Expect eject Yo, it's only for Cuban links And your necklace is anorexic Get your weight up I'm runnin' to the bank like I'm off a bounce pass Then I layup, I live every day up Top notch In other words – stay up