Stack Yo Paypuh - Clear Soul Forces

Hey

One time for ya

One time for ya

Yeah (CSF, nigga… uh)

Uh

Yeah

It’s that

Uh, yeah

Feel this shit, uh

It’s like, uh

It’s like one, two, three and to the four

E-Fav, CSF knocking at yo door

Ready to get my paper, my fetti, my cheddar

Ch-ch-ch-check it, I know you gotta respect it

While I deposit this message

We clean it up, redirect it, and teach the youth

Better beat up the booth

Bitch you know I speak truth

While you is looking like a collection of Who’s Who

Why you looking so confused?

Bitch I’m talking 'bout you (you, you, you)

But back to the topic, here to fatten up my wallet

Have my bank account resembling the encoded doctrine

Letters, numbers, zeroes, commas, all of the above

On my mama ho, I promise I’mma represent the club

(?) Pimping, Baby

Stack yo, stack yo, stack yo paypuh

I need a blunt to the face, thinking about tomorrow

Live for today, fuck drowning in your sorrow

Get up, get up, go out and get it nigga

Get up, get up, go out and get it nigga

Stack yo paypuh, major, baby (x3)

Stack it up, stack it up

Check

Check

Look

Get it, get it, however you can

Before money root us all try to go back if you can

Like, like, sometimes I wish I was a kid again

Santa better eat these cookies if I leave 'em out for him

Mama had us believing in hard working

Now my inner child still at large like Harold Berman

Gerald, Hey Arnold, Helga

Jump shot, street lights, home, Zelda

Picture that nappy headed boy watching cartoons

When Mama left for work, his heels was on the tube

Shoes, Nike Air Flight Huarache

Reggie Miller wannabe shooting jumpers like mama watch me

Cross over like Tim Hardaway, floater like Tony Parker kid

Funny looking Michael Ray jumper got me a scholarship

Now my son in Space Jams watching Space Jam

Same way I used to look, hoop dreams and rhyme books

Divine crook, don’t ask me how I got it

The non college prophet with no squalor in his wallet

Scheme things solid been grim in the 70s

In order for me to get on, I broke a couple felonies

Shame that a talent rapping is irrele-v

Chevy speed got at me with the crews like Penelope

Firearm Wesley, you, you, you want it?

Recipe money, more cream then the Nestlé bunny

Now who want it

Hands up now, its fantastic

Dealers still need a deal, P-L-astic

The dollar for my thoughts, fuck a penny son

Beast in my wrist, Ben 10

We get it done, you dip and run

Strong as adamantium, captain never Branium

This shield is from the stars now I’m cussing like I’m anti sun

Bi-atch, bi-atch with the shee-ot, shee-ot

Catch Ila, Ila at the e ah ah

On the scene, with the «damn, I need some money» look

Never duck bills like a platypus, understood (get it)

This for my niggas buying shit that could afford it

You in your Mom’s crib, but you got them new Jordan’s (lame)

I’m buying out the bar, my first check from recording

But I’m still broke, so I ball on a budget (you broke nigga)

Hoes, cars, weed, amongst things

Chains, rings, my stars shine like bling bling

Bling out, 'bout to charge fees for freestyles

Used to try not see before, but see now

Folks telling us the dance get sales down

I tell them niggas back they ass up and slow down

Y’all been telling lies, I’mma keep shit real

If skills pay the bills when Bill Gates will

I got the will to write a milli songs with no deal

Until the day I post up parked on Maybach wheels

I used to daydream at Busch’s going loco

Now we got fans in Sudan we going global

Play our CD in DC at a go-go

West coast LBC in a low-low

I heard they even begged departure out in Tokyo

Everywhere we go, people love us