All for the Money

(Gyeah, now that's some of that real gangsta shit Comin' from an original nigga from the Compton streets MC Eiht's in the motha fuckin house, Gyeah And right about now, Half Ounce in the motha fuckin house MC Eiht, DJ Slick, my niggas on the run, Little Hawking Bird Gyeah) One more nigga on the run I just can't handle this, born in the land of the scandalous Thirteen years of age at the time Moms ain't kickin' in, I gots to get mine I loads up my strap, map out my plan Choose my victim, then mother fuckin' stick him One more point that got scored for the hood Up to no damn good, understood Snaps is getting low so I gots to get some mo' Loads up the K, break out the back do' You know the routine, so punk fool, here we go Same bat channel, keep your motherfucking hands up on the dash And gives up the cash One-times is making a move on my ass (Gyeah) But I ain't sweating it because ain't shit funny Because it's all for the money [Hook] Gyeah I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours Gyeah, Gyeah, Gyeah Just call me the come up kid, G Hard times kicking it in the CPT So that means I gotta do what I gotta do And if you ain't down with The Hype, fuck you You're coming up short when I ??? So when I hit your corner, you're gonna be a goner Nigga duck when my nine starts to buck In it for the snaps so I'm crazy as fuck I should be laying low cause one time is real hot Need to make a knot so I rush your spot And it's like that when I got the feelin' If you don't kill someone else does the killing So when you hit the end of the road ain't no turning back I done signed a hood lifetime contract Jacking and packing cause ain't shit funny Because it's all for the money [Hook] Uh oh, there goes another beep on the beeper One time sleep on the fucking night creeper Trying to show stop on the sales Pull fake braids but I still gets paid Just say no? Fuck the TV Trying to push the shit cause the weight is exceed See me for the blast, Five-oh fly in fast Mad cause I'm making more cash than they ass Now I lay low in the cut Label me the nigga with the fucking gangsta strut Every hooptie got gold license plates My birds fly out throughout the fucking states Now my other half is telling me I'd better quit But I ain't through in this shit, so I guess this is it I'll be dead before I go out like a dummy (Why's that, G?) Cause it's all for the money I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours (Repeat 6x)