Wu-Tang Clan - C. R. E. A. M. Lyrics
Wu-Tang Clan - C. R. E. A. M. Lyrics |
|
|
|
| Browse by artist name | Search in artists | Browse by soundtrack |
| A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z # | A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z # |
 |
|||||||||||
| Wu-Tang Clan
- C. R. E. A. M. Lyrics
Album: Non-Album Songs Lyrics Intro: Raekwon the Chef, Method Man What that nigga want God? Word up, look out for the cops [Wu-Tang five finger shit] (Cash Rules) Word up, two for fives over here baby Word up, two for fives them niggaz got garbage down the way, word up KnowhatI'msayin? (Cash Rules Everything Around Me C.R.E.A.M. get...) Yeah, check this ol fly shit out Word up (Cash Rules Everything Around Me) Take you on a natural joint (C.R.E.A.M. get the money) Here we here we go (dolla dolla bill y'all) Check this shit, yo! Verse One: Raekwon the Chef I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side Staying alive was no job At second hands, moms bounced on old men So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth, yo rockin the gold tooth, 'Lo goose Only way, I begin to gee off was drug loot And let's start it like this son, rollin with this one And that one, pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed, for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough all Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater Times is ruff and tuff like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick ass click and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's, every week we made forty G's Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tech nine Ch-chick-POW! Move from the gate now Chorus: Method Man Cash, Rules, Everything, Around, Me C.R.E.A.M. Get the money Dollar, dollar bill y'all Verse Two: Inspector Deck It's been twenty-two long hard years of still strugglin Survival got me buggin, but I'm alive on arrival I peep at the shape of the streets And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep A man with a dream with plans to make C.R.E.A.M. Which failed; I went to jail at the age of 15 A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much Trying to get a clutch at what I could not... could not... The court played me short, now I face incarceration Pacin -- going up state's my destination Handcuffed in back of a bus, forty of us Life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff But as the world turns I learned life is hell Living in the world no different from a cell Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase, sellin base Smokin bones in the staircase Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed But I'm still depressed, and I ask what's it worth? Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth Who explained working hard may help you maintain To learn to overcome the heartaches and pain We got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks And stray shots, all on the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear Neglected, but now, but yo, it gots to be accepted That what? That life is hectic Outro: Chorus -- 4X Niggas gots to do what they gotta do, to get a bill YaknowhatI'msayin? 'cause we can't just get by no more Word up, we gotta get over, straight up and down Chorus -- 3X Cash Rules Everything Around Me C.R.E.A.M. Get the money Dolla dolla bill y'aauhhhaaaauhhhhahhhauhhhhll, YEAH
|
|
||||||||||
| DMCA Policy | Add/correct lyrics | Request lyrics | Links | Privacy | Contact us | © STLyrics.com 2002 - | ||||||||||
