Letras
If it don't make money, it don't make sense
Look, if you don't know a thing about me know that homie rep
Another nigga cold as me, that shit just don't exist
No experience in acting, but stick to the script
See bitch, my presence be a present, I just got the gift
And don't attach my name to it if it ain't legit
Won't even waste no game on her if she ain't gone strip
Young nigga on a mission, only plot be this
I can melt this Cuban link and make a pot to piss
Westside on mine, I keep them check signs online
Ain't no handouts, that been ran out, so nigga best be on yo' grind
Never struggle with it, never love this business, I don't cuddle with it
If that plane work, it's automatic, back to huddle with it
That ain't fully loaded, ain't no levels, I ain't fucking with it
Tuck and grip, any nigga tripping tell him come and get it
I'm from the land where all the skinny niggas ride
Where we ain't never been touched even though plenty niggas tried
If it don't make money, it don't make sense
If you don't know a thing about me, know I'm taking risks
Started recording in '06 now it's making sense
Why my cousin used to tell me just keep making hits
And now he locked behind the fence and I'm just making chips
I know most you niggas out here is fake as shit
And everybody paid bitch, so you ain't exempt
You niggas still be buying J's before you pay your rent
Meanwhile, I'm out of town with this [?]
In the Biggie Smalls hat with the [?]
I pulled $100, 000 out and told him hate on this
How we always be with [?] but he ain't no crip
I'm just a Westside nigga, so I don't take no shit
Like the fruit of Islam, nigga this ain't no [?]
Don't try to salt a nigga name because it ain't gone stick
You trying to wear a nigga Vans, but they just ain't gone fit
So I went and talked to Quik and he told me this:
If it don't make money, it don't make sense