Dollaz and Sense / 0 to 100

[Part I: Dollaz and Sense] [Verse 1: Problem] Nigga, I'm from Compton, what up Quik? You my nigga, bro Doin' 80 up Figuero', condition is critical I can't get caught slippin' By my foes or the po's, boy I've been sippin' Shoutout to my nigga Villain nana crippin' even on cell day Big Nick, Ludolph, Bird Nose, and LJ Dice games on a 102nd and Main I lose I hit [?], come back, then try to crack 'em again Way before I hit the traffickin' game Nowadays I'm just traffickin' game, you better get some Get out the way 'fore I hit somethin', erhhh, pop I love drivin' bitch niggas crazy Eat a bowl of shit 'fore a bitch nigga play me Ballin', bitch try to play me Kobe, KDs are laced up, in the club Aced up Tatted from the waist up, fuck like a straight slut Nah-ah-ah-ah-ah, that's for real And ho I don't need a pill Independent gettin' skrilla, I don't need a deal Bank'll kill at will, two sec, need Benadryl And a nigga been this ill for a long time You pussies want a problem, get in that long line Yeah, that long line, yeah, yeah, a long line Run it wrong, you'll be done in six seconds, no Vine Tell your ho to come over, she'll be there in no time Like she watchless, it's Showtime, ho watch this If I call you for me to come over I'm coming to stick Chopsticks, pull it out she lock lips Yeah, let me hit it bare then I might get her some head Lick her for some paper, I'mma do it like a dare Diamond Lane the Gang, and I bang it like a snare On God, bow down to no man I'm a bar, no Rosanne, El Segando to Rosecrans Reppin', Westside steppin' Eastside mind state with three K's, Andre I'm an outcast, honey mmm in the house stash We'll just take you out for the right cash And I ain't talkin' 'bout no date Birthday love cakes as much as Boog loves Satan You got served, in every way possible Shit get hostile, I get colder than a hospital So don't be bangin' under false pretense ‘Cause if it don't make dollars, it don't make sense, boy! [Hook: DJ Quik, (Problem) & (Childish Gambino)] If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense (Yeah) So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence (What?) If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence (‘Cause I ain't playin' with your punk ass, boy) If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense (Diamond Lane, Money Gang, everything we run it) So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense (What up, Problem?) Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince (What?) [Verse 2: Childish Gambino] Now look who came up in this bitch Mister look like shit, but I know he rich Get at me, I thought you mothafuckas be happy But they not ‘cause they took a back seat like a taxi I'm a latch key kid, home alone so often But I had to come back to my Cali like Culkin I was born out here, then I moved out there Nigga check my core, man, this shit ain't fair I got a track with Alley Boy, Fredo, and Problem So you know I'm in the hood just like I'm a cobra Python, check the app, I'm hangin' with coders Man that 'Bino goin' off, I thought that I told you Before the [?] closed and the Crenshaw Mall I used to date this fly girl with a place in the Dons We used to cruise Leimert Park in a Beamer Love a Cali girl so much, have you seen her? Shout out to Latinas, look at all these hynas 'Bino is the highest, niggas know I'm childish I be on that Y shit, and she down to roll Ate her pussy like a sachi teriyaki bowl Ayo, Problem? (What up?) This a diss track right? (Go ahead) Fuck you, fuck you - you're cool - you can't rap You need help, you all industry hype Most of these niggas aight, none of 'em holdin' a light to me Wearin' some wifer tees, like it was '93 After the riots, niggas is violent Sprayed the llama, took the L shit, wasn't silent, though Middle finger crossed up, niggas now you know, for real [Hook: DJ Quik & (Problem)] If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense (Gambino) So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence (Yeah) If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense ([?] night with real men, for real) So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense (‘Cause if it don't make dollars it don't make sense) So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense (Compton, California, that's where I'm from) Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince (Diamond!) [Interlude: Bad Lucc] Ayo, Justin Credible, what the deal? You know it wouldn't have been the same without Bad Lucc up in this thing [?] like that You know what I'm talking 'bout? Diamond Lane up in this thing If Diamond Lane's in this thing, you know LA's up in this thing And if LA's up in this thing then you know the LA Leakers up in this thing We about to turn up real quick, ayo, Prob! Show 'em what that jump off mix do, the Diamond Lane way You dig me? Yeah [Part II: 0 to 100] [Verse: Problem] Come through high, stepping like a kappa nigga Run the race, [?] Obama 'bout to lap a nigga I don't talk, kill beef before it happen, nigga Think we second place by the way we coming after niggas Up, down, closed fists like we 'bout to dap a nigga Bro, don't shake my hand, don't try to dap a nigga Me and Luccy lavish, nigga It's funny how the vets wait till you get the mail before they stop a nigga Huh, kind of crazy, right? (Yeah) Blowing cool J's, yeah, I'm with the ladies like (Yeah) A nigga matching head to toe, I'm the 80's type I hid my safe, it seen more scratches than when ladies fight Betty Wright, just (Nigga just), oh my God, I'm fucking focused Rid the ground of Batman and start dealing with these jokers Got bitches (Got bitches), got a thousand on the sofas But they better watch they steps, spent 2,000 on these loafers I ain't playin' (I ain't playin'), I done been took the jersey off Me and [?] ducking TMZ, scurry off D Kev, Retro 11's Cashed out on "Like What," got it patented, no leather Outside my boy, Lucc, ain't another nigga better And I'm gunnin' at a blue, sharper 9, sharper [?] Diamond Lane, came from nothing, Hell yeah, I'm livin' proof Hundred twenty-five inches worth of TV in my room Picture clear (Picture clear), birdy told me let y'all have it Now I'm busting, pretty lady, get that towel from out the cabinet Wipe me down (Wipe me down), wipe me down, wipe me down God done gave me the will, who the fuck can stop me now? Run 'em over (Run 'em over), grab a spatula, leave him flat I don't give a fuck, niggas shouldn't have stepped on the track Anyway, delay, one lane, no delayin' Court side with a basketball nigga's boot thing True story (That's real, nigga) [Outro: Problem & Justin Credible] Yeah Diamond Lane, Problem, Bad Lucc, cash in We comin' OK, you see what it is, man LA Leakers, Justin Credible, Fuzz Fantab, DJ Sourmilk, man Along with the homie, Problem Whoa, it's about to be a 3, 5, 4, lift off Let's turn it up, man LA, let's show 'em how we do, baby, LA Leakers