Consideration - BOLDY JAMES

My 1st Chemistry Set

Blocks, Chemist

Cook up

Yeah

Finished with this last hundred thou' through the money counter

Movin' the bag and I’m runnin' out in record timin'

Geneva band bright, with excessive diamonds

All you can move is puppy chow and New England clam chowder

You mismatchin' designers, I’m?

and the powder

And V12's and problems, and I ain’t have a license

As I multiply and divide addin' money

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

Pocket full of stacks

I had to take into consideration

That when you gettin' 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

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 (do it)

We’re talking nothing but the best that money can buy

I got real expensive taste and I live an extravagant lifestyle

My left pocket: six G’s, 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 doin' 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 think you slick, with a bag full of tricks

While you try’na penny pinch, I’m try’na cram jam

Twenty two grand in my True Religion brand pants

I 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 till I’m dead or in the fed pen