Consideration

[Intro]

The gang hired cooks to make the raw cocaine enterprise

Seven-hundred-sixty murders last year is a record for Detroit

Murdered cap—

My 1st Chemistry Set

Blocks

Chemist

Cook up

Yeah

[Verse 1]

Finish with this last hundred thou' through the money counter

Moving the bag and I'm runnin' out in record timing

Geneva band brightly with excessive diamonds

Off Eukanuba puppy chow and New England clam chowder

You mismatching designers, I'm V12 in Impala

And V12s and problems, ain't never had a license

As I multiply and divide, add and minus

I never paid attention in class except for math and science

Live in the lap of lux, smokin' on Cali's finest

These niggas so puss you'd have thought that they had vaginas

That's why we clap 'em up, ten packs, bloodclot 'em

I got ninety-nine problems and a brick ain't one

I got thirty-five shots, yeah, the clip that dumb

And my handgun, it look retarded as a chopper

We built this from the ground up, started from the bottom

It's ConCreatures, Game Time, money ain't a problem

[Chorus]

(Pocket full of stacks) I had to take into consideration

That when you getting money, ain't no limitation

To what niggas'll do to get they hands on this paper (Better tell 'em)

Have my critters come and lay down that demonstration (187s)

'Cause niggas hate it when you get they bitches naked (Bold)

And your chain made out of a bunch of tennis bracelets (Cold)

And your closet full of fresh, put one in the sky (You know it)

I'm talking nothing but the best that money can buy

[Interlude]

I got real expensive taste

And I live an extravagant lifestyle (Mafia)

[Verse 2]

My left pocket six Gs, the other one ten bands

And my watch on Swizz Beatz, I'm the one-man band man

Four in my right palm, two in my left hand

In the back of the club doing the band dance

All around the board, I was born in the USA

Guess you could say this an American Band Stand

Three-hundred eighties got my man jammed

Now it's meet me at the Little Caesars, my baby, I got them pan pans

Half-assed nickel slick with a bag full of tricks

While you tryna penny pinch, I'm tryna cram jam

Twenty-two grand in my True Religion-brand pants (Blocks)

Just sold a hundred grams, that's another ten bands

Put a one on it, that's an extra ten grams

I cook so much dope, I need two wristbands

And I ball so hard, I need a headband

It's ConCreatures 'til I'm dead or in the fed pen (227)

[Chorus]

(Pocket full of stacks) I had to take into consideration

That when you getting money, ain't no limitation

To what niggas'll do to get they hands on this paper (Better tell 'em)

Have my critters come and lay down that demonstration (187s)

'Cause niggas hate it when you get they bitches naked (Bold)

And your chain made out of a bunch of tennis bracelets (Cold)

And your closet full of fresh, put one in the sky (You know it)

I'm talking nothing but the best that money can buy